


FILE: ABDUCTED

by ShadowcrestNightingale



Series: The Subconscious Files [4]
Category: Id:Invaded (Anime)
Genre: Abduction, Canon Compliant, Drama, Gen, Kidnapping, Mental Health Issues, Missing Persons, Murder, Mystery, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Profiling, Psychological Drama, Serial Killers, Torture, Trauma, Triggers Psychological, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 65,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowcrestNightingale/pseuds/ShadowcrestNightingale
Summary: Informed of plans to 'help him' Narihisago is less than thrilled when Momoki insists on an offsite specialized scan at a better equipped hospital. He sends Hondomachi along to handle the ornery inmate for the 'quick office visit'. When word comes that the convoy never arrived, panic sets in. Matsuoka locates the vehicles and to the horror of Kura—Narihisago and Hondomachi are missing and the theories start to accelerate. Matsuoka insists Narihisago ran off, intent on holding her hostage to regain his freedom. Momoki, trying to hold faith that part of his old friend still remains, can't believe he would do such a thing. Did Narihisago finally snap and go full rogue? Is there a way to find out what happened? Left with few choices, Momoki turns to Fukuda in hopes of some answers and gets far more than he bargained for.Canon compatible, expanding off the world in the same feel as the episodes, filling in gaps.MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: If psychological disorders and suicide are triggers, DO NOT read! ID: Invaded gets heavy into this and I am writing to the feel of the series.
Series: The Subconscious Files [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869256
Comments: 279
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When writing for a fandom I tend to carry a bit of head-canon through the various stories. It's not essential to read them all, but I also like to hide Easter eggs and such, you might get more from the full reads. This one follows on the heels FILE: BUSTED, and incorporates some elements from FILE: VIVISECTED

_ **Chapter 1** _

“Can you be any more surly?”

“Is that a challenge?” With his arms crossed, Narihisago glared through the barrier of his cell at Momoki who was clearly attempting to suppress his annoyance and failing bitterly.

Momoki's eyes narrowed, furrowing his brow thoroughly, stance rigid he pulled himself even more upright if that were possible going for the height difference in an effort of authority.

_Like Momoki needs to. He knows he calls all the damn shots!_

Momoki took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “This isn't up for discussion.”

“Then why bother to ask me?” He kept his eyes locked, resisting the urge to roll them. That dead stare always bothered Momoki. In less than ten seconds his nerves crumbled, eyes flicking away to the side. That cinched it … and secretly surprised Narihisago. _Odd. A lack of confidence in his decision?_

“Do you want to get back to diving again?”

The words left his lips before he thought about them. “Of course I do!”

“Then we have to figure out what's going on.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Narihisago walked in a frustrated circle. “This is a waste of time and you know it!”

“I promise you, for this scan you just have to still, they won't be triggering anything.”

Stopping, Narihisago planted both palms against the clear shatterproof barrier a bit harder than he had intended, all the frustration of that disastrous day that Kokufu and Momoki had foolishly tried to use a piece of medical equipment to see what was going on in his brain when he went off. The loud thud echoed and sent Momoki back a step. “I don't give a shit if they won't! I told you I don't want to go through with this! I'm tired of being poked and prodded like some experiment!”

Momoki shook his head, resetting his stance, fists at his side. “Tough shit. You're going, Narihisago. The research hospital unit that Kokufu and I have gone to great lengths to make arrangements for has a specialized scanner that has the potential for giving us a better handle on what's going on with you. It's just a day trip, there and back. Not as big of a deal as you're making this out to be.”

Now Narihisago rolled his eyes. “Can't you leave well enough alone?”

“If you were _well enough—_ I would! You need help.”

“I need a purpose. I need to **dive**!”

Stepping back, Momoki lifted a hand. “See? You're not being rational enough to realize the damage this is doing to you.”

He heaved an annoyed sigh. Turning his back on Momoki he flopped down his bed.

“Narihisago … please don't shut me out. Talk to me.” His voice had gone from frustration to desperation.

Refusing to respond, he continued to face the wall, elbow punched into the pillow, his head resting in the palm of his hand.

“Look, I'm sorry it's come to this. We don't have a choice. You need help … and whether or not you like it, you're getting it.” After a long silent minute his footsteps walked off.

Across the hall from the other cell, Fukuda snorted a laugh. “Wow, the boss is damn dense for being a detective.”

Wearily, Narihisago remarked toward the wall, “Didn't used to be.” Deep in his gut a hollow opened up as he fought to keep his breathing steady. Promise or not, he wasn't in the least bit eager for the process of being restrained for another scan. He'd been through enough tests by now, not just at Kura, but before as well. Way back when this first began and his stability came into question. A shudder escaped him as it all came back in a terrible cascade of memories, most of them ending in blackouts. “Pointless,” he sighed.

“Don't have to tell me that.” The squeak of Fukuda getting off his bed was followed by the shuffle of his feet and a grunt as he settled on the floor. “I got an open appointment if you want it, buddy.”

Rolling onto his back, Narihisago eyed him sitting in the corner with his knees drawn up, folded arms resting on them. With the scarred side of his face to him, Fukuda stared up at the ceiling idly, waiting. It was only a few minutes of silence before Narihisago shifted out of his bed and sat in the front corner floor in much the same fashion. “Doesn't matter how many different scans they do, it's not like those'll fix anything. All they prove is that I'm still unable to control myself in certain situations.” He rested his chin on his crossed wrists. “What good did triggering me do other than bruise the shit out of me?”

It had been long enough the evidence had faded, even the deep mark that the prison bracelet's edge being shoved into his flesh had left behind. Some moron had put the strap right over it.

Fukuda raised an eyebrow, looking across the hall at him. “Makes him feel like he's doing something. Shame he's on the wrong track. Sheesh, your real solution is simple.”

Shifting his eyes to stare at him, he grumbled, “There is nothing simple about this.”

“Ehhh, depends on how you look at it.” Fukuda shrugged, his smile filled with confidence. “Well, I mean, I doubt you want to see it. The truth is, you're too close.”

“Typical you. Less than helpful.” 

“Hang on, I'm not playing around, I actually got yah.” Fukuda's smile broadened.

“I sincerely doubt that.” Narihisago stared at the ceiling. 

He laughed into his hand. “Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence. You've lost a lot, Narihisago, but the fact is … ” he tapped the hole in his forehead, “there's another half to your whole.”

He stiffened, his eyes drifting as he struggled to decode the message. This was hardly Fukuda's first jaunt into maddening wordplay. The man was entirely too smug and Narihisago was hardly in the mood for this shit. As it was he had no idea when they would escort him out of here … out of Kura for the first time since he'd been transferred here for his own good. Wandering un-escorted though the building had brought forth a number of startling revelations about his mental state, what would the outside world bring?

Fukuda pointed a finger three times toward the back wall of Narihisago's cell. “Every time we talk about your past, you sure do talk a lot about daughter … ”

Clenching his jaw, Narihisago growled, “Watch it!”

He held his gesture, pointing. “I dunno about you, but I see three people in those photos.”

Narihisago turned, his eyes locked on an image. He sat smiling with Muku on his lap … and beside him … “ … Ayako.”

“You never talk about her … even though you know the truth.”

His hand hurt. He looked down to discover his white-knuckled fist shaking on his knee.

“Ohhh, that reaction would be a confirmation. We know what your problem is, Mr. Anger Issues. Are you grinding your teeth over there?”

In shock, he realized he was. Forcing his hands open he planted them on the floor, staring down between his feet trying to catch his breath. It welled within him, a deep burning ball of fire hitching his breath. He still lacked the ability to dwell here. Inside his chest his heart raced away as if trying to escape, to evade the crushing weight.

In a tornado of thoughts circling round and round it whipped into a fury until he found himself gripping his head. Anger, pure undiluted rage tore through him uncovering the void left behind. A gut wrenching hole in his heart.

_Another half to his whole_ … his mouth felt like someone had shoved cotton in it.  _Dammit Fukuda! Why did you bring this up now?_ He climbed to his knees, and slowly stood approaching the wall. Staring at the photos, unable to turn away from the train wreck of his life. He always spoke of Muku … the innocent victim. But he could count on one hand the number of times he had mentioned Ayako since he'd been imprisoned. 

Suicide. The images rushed him, far faster than he was ready for. He caught his weight against the end of his bed but forced his gaze to remain on the photos despite the challenge to his equilibrium.  _She had told me she was alright. She had lied!_ Ever since that day Narihisago detested lying, even little white lies. He'd come home hours later to find her dead in the bath she had told him she'd take to relax. She had bathed … in her own blood. 

She had left him … alone … already crippled by grief, her suicide gutted him to the core. In all his life, in all the dives, he had found no pain to rival that of her loss … and only one pleasurable release in the wake. Looking into the eyes of a piece of shit serial killer and watching their reason crumble until he inflicted … 

Suicide.

“Why did you bring that up now?” His finger hovered a fraction from touching the image of her smiling warmly. 

“Cause you still aren't able to face facts.”

Narihisago shook his head, staring back at Fukuda. “No … that can't be it. I'm all about facts!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but not the best with emotions. Not that I'm one to speak on their behalf. But I would think if I'd had family close enough that I would have mourned them, we know though the brief conversations you haven't.”

His eyes searched for a place, but there wasn't even the faintest of a pause in their frantic pace.  _She was gone … they both were … and I sat there, in silence, alone …_ once more his hand hurt. He stared at the shaking fist, nails digging into the flesh of his palms, startled at the undeniable revelation. “I never got past … anger.”

Rising to his feet, Fukuda gave a lackadaisical cheer. “And we have a major breakthrough. This is the longest you've stayed on topic so far. Don't you feel better now?”

He staggered to his bed and dropped down, bracing his head and trying to catch his breath. “No … not even the least!”

“All you gotta do is tell him what the problem is. No need for some stupid scan. Problem solved.”

“How can you say that? It's no where near solved!”

“Sure it is. We know what's wrong with you.”

“I still have no idea what do with that!”

Fukuda blinked half lidded eyes. “Oh,” he muttered unenthusiastically, “suppose that does complicate things.”

“Besides, “ he flipped a hand, “after our heated exchange I doubt Momoki will even come back down before they come for me.”

Lying back on his own bed, Fukuda drew up a knee and rested one leg over the other, bouncing his foot. “Well, you're screwed.” 

“Shit, combined with what Hayaseura did to me it's no wonder I'm too unhinged to be released. Good thing I never counted on getting my life back.”

“You? Out on the chaotic streets of today? Hah, I'd give you no more than a few days before someone pisses you off enough that you end them.”

Narihisago looked at his hands, pumping them before he closed his eyes.

“Uh, no, not like that. I'm talking about that trick where you profile them to death. Which is actually kinda rad if I'm honest.”

His blood ran cold. “Good thing that'll never happen.”

“Yah, you're never getting out of here, ehh, permanently that is.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “That … is the abysmal truth.”

_**~ID~** _

In the middle backseat of the squad car, Narihisago morosely watched Tokyo's cityscape pass by. His hands had been cuffed behind him, checked thoroughly by more than one guard to be certain they wouldn't release without the key. Since he'd been an officer, he knew damn well there were ways if the catch wasn't secured properly.

It was.

Narihisago had no choice to go along, unless he'd really wanted the humiliation of being sedated.

The car heater kept it toasty on their trip. Outside the trees of late autumn were nearly striped bare of their leaves. The sky leaden and threatening rain in the late morning light. Pedestrians hustled along the side of the road bundled in jackets and scarves. Such a difference from Narihisago. Since he'd been loaded into the car from the ramp and barely left the building, he wore the black t-shirt with the long sleeves of his jumpsuit still tied around his waist. He wouldn't be exposed to the outside weather and didn't need a jacket.

“Has the city changed much, Mr. Narihisago?”

He shifted his eyes from outside to the seat next him. Hondomachi sat on his left side smiling up at him. He had to give it to him, Momoki had been thinking with this little detail. It was hard to remain upset with her overly cheery demeanor. He shrugged, the cuffs clinked and earned him a glance from the armed guard in the front seat. “A bit. It hasn't been that long.” _Only three years._ During the transfer to Kura he hadn't been able to see much out of the back of the van.

She quirked a brow. “What's with the frown then.”

He closed his eyes, wishing she hadn't asked.

“Not on board with this, huh.”

“Not even a bit, but Momoki wasn't keen to listen.” And Fukuda's chosen topic hadn't really helped.

“Don't you want to dive again?”

He opened his eyes, nodding. “More than anything. Been staring at the same damn walls for two weeks straight. It's driving me … ” his mouth hung open just shy of the word before he clamped up and stared out the right side window.

“Makes sense. Anyone would be.” She didn't say it, but the fact that she grasped his meaning anyway was a slight balm to an already bad day. “This shouldn't take long. I'll stay with you the whole time, and who knows, maybe this will be your ticket back to the cockpit again. Not that I mind diving, it's been interesting.”

Narihisago snapped his gaze back on her. “Oh yeah? What have the wells been?”

“Isn't Momoki telling you?” She sat up straighter.

He scowled. “No, he's barely been down there. And like I said, I hadn't left my cell in weeks.”

“I don't see any harm in sharing. There was this really strange one that had these strings. They were like filaments? A whole ton of them overlapping in an array of colors. The solution was to … ”

Narihisago leaned closer to her trying to imagine what he had been missing out on.

Suddenly the entire car jerked to the left, their quiet conversation replaced by the sounds of shrieking tires, braking glass, groaning metal, and alarmed screams. The horizon turned and flipped, more than once in a disorienting sequence.

Narihisago stared in horror as the car's momentum took it up onto the end of the hood in a front stand. He had enough well dive experiences to know—this wasn't going to end well!

_**~ID~** _

“So,” Wakashika licked off his fingers from the chips he'd been eating at his cubicle, “you guys missed it at the karaoke bar last night.”

Habutae and Shiratake both kept their eyes locked on their computer screens in their shared office. This room was nothing like the high-tech Wellside. Here it was the typical laptops with standard cubicle divisions between their desks. Each one had a bit of their personal touch to them. Wakashika's looked like a combination between a pop market and a convenience store's snack shelf. Habutae's contained photos of celebrities he'd met at events and stacks of news magazines. Shiratake had created a little forest, all around him magazines focused on obscure locations and landmarks, especially the natural ones.

As Wakashika continued his outlandish account of how the hottest girl in the joint sung a duet with him and afterward requested his digits, Momoki and Togo double checked a file at his corner desk, currently splayed with paperwork. “Hondomachi did a hell of a run to close this case for us, we don't want him getting out on a technicality.”

Momoki sighed, “Shame we couldn't coax a full confession out of him. Would mean we could just skip the trial. So much easier that way.”

“That would have meant him realizing that literally hitting someone over the head with a book won't knock sense into them, it just kills them when done hard enough.” She shook her head. “I had thought it was just an id well metaphor until SWAT entered his basement. That man has something wrong with him.”

Habutae glanced their way. “An obscene case of self-righteousness.”

“Clearly.” Momoki checked the last portion of the form before shutting the file.

Shiratake yawned, “We're in the middle of another slow stint. Only three cases in these last two weeks.”

“I know,” tapping his hand on the desk, Wakashika eyed them all over the partition, “since we have some downtime, how about we all go—”

Habutae eyed him. “If you say karaoke I am going to clear out your desk with the firehouse.”

Holding the last word, Wakashika sank back down into his chair.

For a short while all that could be heard in the room was the muted click of the keyboards.

“Hey Director,” Habutae waited for him to look his way. “This morning you went down to see Narihisago, right?”

“I did.”

“Expected that to last a bit longer since it had been awhile. You were rather quiet when you came back up.”

Momoki sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Wasn't precisely a comfortable topic. Kokufu and I decided on another scan.”

Shiratake peered over his laptop. “Didn't that go badly last time?”

He nodded. “This one is different. In fact, it's not even one we can do onsite. We had to arrange an escort to a research hospital that specializes in this new technique. That's why we're not diving today. Hondomachi went with him. Figured the two have a good enough rapport, she's capable enough to calm his ornery ass down.”

“Wait—he's not in Kura right now?”

Togo shook her head. “Departed late morning. Had to arrange for three squad cars, and six officers.”

Wakashika dropped the chip he was holding back into the bag. “Plus Hondomachi … for one guy? Are you serious?”

Momoki sternly nodded. “For one very valuable guy. It seems excessive, but given how pissed off he was with me this morning none of us left anything to chance.”

“You don't think he would do anything … ”

“On purpose? No. The danger comes when he gets edgy. I'll be honest, he never agreed to the test. He actually gave me the cold shoulder. That's why I was hoping Hondomachi would smooth things over a bit. He's responded well to her presence in the post dive debriefings. By the time he gets back with the experience that this whole thing was no big deal we'll be fine. It's mid-afternoon now, that should be soon.”

The door to their office opened. Breathless, Kokufu stared straight at Momoki wide-eyed with his phone in his hand. He held up a hand fighting to catch his breath. “Never … arrived … ”

He blinked as the whole Wellside staff turned to face Kura's acting chief. Momoki swallowed the lump in his throat. “What never arrived?” _Please let it be some piece of equipment … have we ordered something?_

Kokufu pointed down the hall. “They called … the escort … they never arrived.”

Slowly, Momoki stood up, the shock taking control over him. But his panic had nowhere to focus. “But he should have been there, hours ago! Hell, they should have been on their way back!”

“That's why they called me, to ask if there'd been a delay. When dispatch called the officers there was no reply.” Kokufu pointed to his phone. “They just notified me.”

“Hondomachi's with him.” He picked up his phone to bring up her number.

“The first thing I tried. No answer. They're trying to locate the phone's GPS.”

“Matsuoka! Send him to track Narihisago's implant chip.”

“That's the thing.” Kokufu shook his head. “When we tried to pull it up it's not showing, like the booster has been severed.”

“Shit! The prison bracelet.”

“Does he know about it?”

“That it acts a signal amplifier? Yes. He does.” A bead of sweat traveled down his forehead. “But he wouldn't have done that … I know he wouldn't have cut it off!”

“We need to get to the bottom of this quickly.” Kokufu held up a hand. “I gave Matsuoka the route that had been blocked off for this, he's following it now.”

Light-headed, Momoki sank back into his chair, his mind racing down the dark avenues of possibility. Narihisago couldn't be missing … this couldn't be happening.


	2. Chapter 2

Momoki stood in the middle of the Wellside in the flurry of a storm. The moment the screens of the more powerful computers flickered to life he was grateful for the adaptability of his team. No one was in the cockpit downstairs … that thought alone opened a hollow pit in his stomach. That was the reason they were here, to get their pilots back. His hands shook as he punched through the login, mind racing to start to construct a plan without half the tools he was used to having access to.

This was a missing persons case … they were used to murders, to well dives, to parsing through a murderer's train of thought.

 _A murderer._ He froze, staring at the image in the file on his screen. Akihito Narihisago, responsible for seven deaths. Physically shooting the Challenger, and pushing six others into suicide, one within Momoki's own earshot a couple weeks back. He wanted to deny the truth even while looking the photo right in the cold, dead eyes. _Dear God no, don't lead to this. Something else, anything else!_

“Sir?” Togo stood at his shoulder, her voice rock-steady. “We're ready, how would you like us to proceed?”

Glancing up, he looked around the upper ring. They all stood, fingers poised.

Kokufu walked in the door with his phone to his ear. “Yes, that's exactly what I said. Just send me the damn password! We need immediate access … To where? All of it! … Thank you.” Hanging up, he looked at the screen and a split second later he swiped it. “Alright, we should have full access to the city's public and traffic camera system. I've also sent you the designated route and the approximate times.”

Swallowing his nerves, Momoki gestured to his team. “Shiratake, start from the departure point and follow the convoy of the three squad cars. Habutae, start from the end and work your way back. Wakashika, I want you to check the side points along the routes in case there was a deviation. Togo and I will search the emergency call logs for anything suspicious.”

A moment later Shiratake glanced over his shoulder. “Got them leaving Kura right onscreen, on time. Following the trail.”

Silence descended as they concentrated their own screens, the tension in the air palpable.

“ _Anyone there?”_ Matsuoka's voice broke over the speaker.

“We hear you.” Momoki shoved another recording file aside. “Do you have something?”

“ _I found the convoy. You're not going to like this. Sending the coordinates now.”_

In a fraction of a minute the data came across the screen. Shiratake blinked. “Hey, isn't that the area where that huge fire burnt out a couple of blocks a few days ago from a gas line explosion?”

Wakashika nodded. “Sure was. Shut down every business for a two block radius. A lot of it due to intense smoke damage.”

“We routed through there for a reason.” Kokufu nodded to the map. “No traffic. Less public exposure.”

Wakashika inhaled sharply. “Uh, Matsuoka? Are you at that intersection now?”

“ _Yeah, pulled up right beside the middle squad car. I'm waving, can't you see me?”_

Swiping the screen Wakashika sent the connection to the others to a round of gasps.

The intersection was—empty.

_**~ID~** _

“ _Matsuoka, someone must have jacked the feed, what are you seeing?”_ Momoki's voice came through his Bluetooth earpiece. 

“Hold on a second, let me link you to my phone.” He punched through and started a video, slowly moving the phone into a panoramic arc. “So, on the main cameras you're not seeing any of this?”

“ _Shit!”_ Wakashika answered. _“No. The lighting isn't even matching. From the angles if the shadows, this is a recording from later in the afternoon!”_

Holding out his phone to provide them with an accurate video feed, Matsuoka performed a thorough sweep of the area. The block had been burnt out days before meaning no one was around.

All three squad cars had been struck on their driver's side, either rolled or shoved to the left violently. Shattered glass littered the ground. Rubber from the tires left on the road showed the sudden change in direction. Chunks of asphalt were tossed about from parts of the vehicles digging in as they rolled and crumpled, to the point of coming apart. They had been struck—hard!

Six officers, scraped and battered from the crash, laid in pools of blood either still in their seats, or in the case of the main transport vehicle, thrown from it. Death by multiple bullets, point blank shots.

“Don't know if you've noticed, but all their guns are missing.” Matsuoka grimly observed.

“ _All of them?”_

He peered into the twisted heap of main transport car. “Even the rifles. Don't rush the medics, they're all stone cold dead.”

“ _Any sign of … ”_ Momoki's voice grew too tight to finish.

Matsuoka turned the phone so he could peer into it. “Not a single sign of either one. Hondomachi and that piece of trash are missing.”

A frantic beeping at his hip drew his attention. With a start, Matsuoka grabbed out the Wakumusubi as it chirped like crazy. “What do you know, cognition particles. I wonder whose they could be?” His teeth ground. “I'm telling you, Momoki, I don't give a shit how much loyalty you have to that scumbag! If I find out he hurt Hondomachi I'm gonna personally beat him so hard he eats through a tube the rest of his short life!”

“ _Let's not jump to conclusions!”_ he answered hastily.

“Conclusions? I'll give you a conclusion! You're too damn close to this to see the truth. You always made excuses for him every time he bent or even flat out broke the rules. It was you who always went to Tominaga and talked him down from delivering the slap that shithead needed to get back in line.”

“ _That's not true! Narihisago had another way of reaching the solution, that's all.”_

“Tsh! More excuses. I'll tell you what I'm seeing. A convict's successful escape plan.”

“ _He didn't … ”_

Heat built inside him, a fire of vengeance. “Then where is he? Where is Hondomachi?”

Kokufu's stern voice broke through. _“We don't know what happened. What we do know is that we have a missing man with invaluable profiling skills, inside knowledge of the police tactics, and a history of violent tendencies. At the moment we have to be careful. Momoki, unfortunately he may be right. As much as I don't want to admit this, we can't dismiss the possibility that Narihisago_ _ **did**_ _take Hondomachi hostage and made a run for it. No, don't argue that. Matsuoka, I know you're closer to the evidence,_ _ **but**_ _if all you look for is proof of your theory, you may overlook critical evidence. You're better than that. Prove it.”_

Matsuoka knew what he was seeing. They wanted proof? He would find it among the wreckage. Shifting his feet, he glanced down and blinked at the dark red blotches.

Blood! A trail of droplets. “What's this?” He held his phone at his side, forgetting to line up the angle as he at first inched along connecting the dots. The path crossed the intersection away from the twisted wrecks of the vehicles. He hastened as he approached the line of fire damaged buildings.

An auto garage, the shattered glass door had been pushed open. The droplets spattered on the concrete floor. A battery operated shop light across the garage hung on a shelf illuminating a tool bench. The tools and lift chains lay in a mess on the floor as if someone had shoved them off in a hurry. Those tools weren't what his eyes focused on.

First he spied the pink flower hair clip against the wall just inches from a small pool of congealed blood. Hondomachi's hair clip.

“You want your proof?”

“ _What did you find?”_

His teeth squealed against one another, accompanied by the wailing of the Wakumusubi sounding off a second time. “This is why we couldn't track that bastard!”

On the tool bench's edge, beside a tipped over blowtorch, a smear of blood had dripped off onto the floor. In the middle of the resulting congealed puddle, the white bracelet lay sliced through the electronic core and discarded. A few inches away—the melted tracking chip. Matsuoka held his phone over the sight.

_**~ID~** _

Momoki stared at the shaking image on his screen. He had to grab a still and make the section larger, and even then he couldn't believe the melted glass and wires of the once injected capsule. Without the GPS tracker and with the cameras being hacked, … it dawned on him, the chances of finding Narihisago diminished. “No … ” he whispered, “he wouldn't have done this! He watched another inmate dig one out of his wrist and bleed to death … he told me about it! Not to mention, his wife … no! It's not possible he did this!”

“ _He watched someone else take one out? Damn it, Momoki! That means he knew!”_

“Narihisago is right-handed. Are you telling me he was dexterous enough with his left to successfully dig that out? Those are put in deep in for a reason!”

“ _He could have forced her to do it at gunpoint.”_

“Are you serious? Hondomachi? The field agent who rammed her head into a drill bit to provide the well so we could find her? And you think she could be forced? I doubt that! Even by him!”

“ _He's a manipulator. Stop defending him!”_

Wakashika shouted, “Hey! I got something. Here's the camera feeds at that intersection and the ones leading up to it. Watch carefully and you can see when the feed switches over. Right … there! The angle of the shadows change, time is 10:43. The last time the convoy is on the feed is … 10:41, four intersections back.”

Habutae came to the railing, “Momoki, this had to be planned. The test was scheduled last week, but you only told him about the trip this morning?”

“ _Doesn't mean he didn't take advantage of a crash. The cameras have been known to glitch.”_

Shiratake pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, replying flatly, “That would be one heck of a selective glitch, sir.”

“ _Could have been arranged through external connections.”_

Kokufu shook his head. “How? Narihisago has no connections with the outside world.”

“ _That we know of. We have to find Hondomachi!”_

Finding his voice again, Momoki leaned toward the screen still showing the video of the garage. “Is there anymore indication of which way they went?”

The screen blurred as Matsuoka dashed toward each of the doors. At long last he swore.  _“No. Too much fire damage from before. He must have staunched the bleeding to keep from leaving a trail to betray his movements. We're after a guy who understands the criminal mind intimately. That unhinged brain of his knows of far too many ways to die, I doubt he fears anything.”_

Words came back to Momoki from when Kura had been infiltrated by Hirai. Narihisago's tense stare as he explained why he'd been forced to choose the stairs to reach the man holding them all hostage … too much of a normal life had been ruined, tainted by the surreal visions of the id wells. He shook his head. “On the contrary. We don't have the faintest what he might be afraid of.” With a sigh he closed his eyes. “Which makes this all the more challenging. Shit … I don't want you to be right … but, it is possible he did panic. 10:41am, which means he's been missing for more than four hours. We have to find him quickly.”

“Director,” Togo straightened up. “We now have two id wells constructed from the Wakumusubi.”

 _The id wells._ In the flurry of activity he'd nearly forgotten. “Fetch Fukuda to the cockpit chamber.”

Everyone's eyes locked on him in shocked silence.

“Fukuda. Now! He's our only choice. Our only chance to find out what might have happened.” He stared down at the blank 3D projection area and sighed, hoping that for once Fukuda would come through for them.

A few minutes passed before the familiar lazy voice called up from below, _“Hey, so this is odd. What's the occasion?”_

“Alright Fukuda, this is really important. We have two wells for you to dive into. It's really important that we do this swiftly.”

“ _Where's the little missy?”_ After a pause and the sound of his cuffs being removed, he laughed. _“Tsk, wait did you send her with Mr. Anger Issues and that's why you need me, cause they aren't back yet?”_

“Yeah. About sums it up.” Momoki took a deep breath. “Fukuda, I mean it. Don't screw around.”

“ _Why do you sound so worried, Director?”_

“Togo, inject Anaido.”


	3. Chapter 3

Kaeru didn't matter much, not to Anaido. He glanced her way and the patterned language prompt uselessly wandered through his thoughts. He shook it off. All that mattered about her was the bullet punched into her chest. That shit didn't take a brilliant detective. Cause of death, obvious as the bleeding hole!

_Why am I thrust here in such a hurry? What could possibly require a rush job?_

His attention drifted to the rest of the id well. The mechanical scraping and grinding of gears rumbled in the air. Objects moved on his periphery. Taking a step back he realized Kaeru lay with her arms behind her back, pushed backward on a large metal lever. More metal levers on platforms shifted back and forth in a sporadic sequence.

“Whoa … now this is … disturbing.”

Tethered to each of those levers was a battered human being with a bullseye target on their chest. Their eyes staring in a wild panic, chests heaving as they fought their bonds.

Carnival music played in the background in a cheery pattern, drowning out the pitiful screams that should have accompanied the movements of their mouths.

A deafening thunder over his shoulder left him staggering to cover his ears. In front of his eyes, one of the bullseye targets exploded in a gout of blood. The now limp victim attached to it tipped over with the lever.

Anaido had seen something like this before … sans the targets with pulses. He'd seen it in his youth … it was what captivated him the first day he parents abandoned him in the middle of an out of town fair.

“This whole thing … it's a shooting gallery!”

And he was standing dead center in the middle of it.

Turning to face the over-sized barrel of the gun, Anaido ran a hand through his hair to the cocking of the firing mechanism. There was no way from this distance he could hope to dodge it.

Nothing for it, he grinned. Spreading his arms wide, he waited for fate.

BLAM!

Gravity reversed in that odd way, and Fukuda opened his eyes to the dim cockpit chamber.

“Well now, that was an interesting perspective.”

Togo called out, _“Did we pull you before the bullet hit?”_

Calmly he replied, “You did. That was a fast dive.”

Momoki's voice rambled out, _“It wasn't his. That's for certain. I'm not sure what to think of that.”_

Fukuda chuckled. “That's easy. Whoever that drive belongs to thinks of killing as a simple game, the whole world is their shooting gallery.”

A spat of silence before Wakashika muttered, _“Damn, that lines up, sir. I hate to admit it … but that makes perfect sense. How did you nail that so fast?”_

Before he could reply, Momoki cut him off, _“Alright, Togo, bring up the second well. Fukuda, same thing.”_

“You still haven't answered why you're in such a rush.”

“ _Not now.”_ Momoki snapped. _“Give us a good look around ...”_ his voice softened, _“don't let this be his. Please don't let this be his!”_

Staring at the ceiling, Fukuda imagined the fear in Momoki's eyes that would match his tone as he muttered just above his breath, “Is he worried this one might belong to … why?”

“ _The second well is ready.”_

“ _Inject Anaido.”_

The cockpit chamber ripped away, buzzing with one-hundred-thousand points of light. Before he could count them all, a whole world coalesced.

Anaido opened his eyes. He lay slumped against a brick wall in a narrow alley. Graffiti marred the surface. Snakes, dragons, wild boars and hellish hounds, all manner of violent symbols slashed against the hard surface among the colorful words … some decidedly more colorful than others. That brought a slight grin to his face. “Someone doesn't know how to spell.”

Kaeru slumped forward over her folded knees in the middle of the alley. Through the shredded remains of her dress, between her shoulder blades and down her spine, large angry welts lined her skin, some of them open and oozing blood thinned with another fluid.

“I am the Brilliant Detective Anaido, and Kaeru is … ” he touched her shoulder and her limp body rolled onto its side, “quite dead. Wow, what a shock. You know, you really are boring company. What's this?” He leaned closer, even her front sported sharp welts in black and blue.

“Wonder what made these babies.” He started to count them, reaching the mid-twenties when a sudden CRACK stole his attention.

Rising to his feet, he spied the large shadow looming in the streetlamps. The source much larger than any human had any right to be.

A second later, a sonic boom crack of airborne leather doubled him over as he covered his ears. The tip of a whip barely missing his cheek!

His eyes widened a bit. That had been close.

In the wake, he realized his cheek stung. A brush of his fingers burst the blister. They came away wet and tacky … blood and another fluid.

“Kaeru … sister, you gotta talk a little faster.”

The shadow fell over him. Anaido looked up over his shoulder, too late to dodge in the narrow alley. The strip of leather lashed out of the darkness and rent him in two.

With a gasp Fukuda sat up in the cockpit, his eyes sliding around the chamber, hands touching the jumpsuit that covered the ghost pain in his chest.

Miraculously he was in one piece.

“ _Thank God!”_ Momoki declared, followed by a thump that sounded vaguely like a man falling on his knees.

Unable to see a damn thing, Fukuda cast his gaze toward the ceiling. “Oookaaaay? Do I get any clue what all that was about?”

Shiratake blurted across the channel, _“Didn't resemble any specific alley. At least I know for certain there was nothing like that in the vicinity of that intersection.”_

“Hellooo … ?”

Habutae took over. _“That was a fast dive, but I didn't see any other victims. From the previous well, no facial matches which leads me to believe that was a mind that didn't see them as individuals, just targets. Still running partial facial recognition in case we have something similar to the composites in the Pyrotechnician's well.”_

Wakashika added, _“We know one thing for sure, neither one of those belonged to Narihisago. So we can nix that off the list.”_

“Hey, why would we even be thinking that?” He rested an arm on his knee as he asked expectantly.

“ _Not now, Fukuda!”_ Momoki barked.

“How about 'yes now'. Why would you be worried one of these wells was his … unless … ” it had been hours, longer than an out and back, “ … Mr. Anger Issues is missing.”

There was a pregnant pause before Momoki's tense voice replied, _“Something happened to the convoy on the way to the hospital for the scan. Matsuoka thought Narihisago might have gone rogue and taken the chance to escape, kidnapping Hondomachi in the process.”_

Fukuda burst into laughter, he couldn't stop for long enough that the door opened and a red-faced Momoki stormed into the chamber.

“This isn't a laughing matter. He was upset with me this morning. What we needed to confirm was that neither of these wells were Narihisago's.”

Fukuda forced himself to stop laughing, but the smirk remained. “Course not.”

“How would you know?”

“Aside from the obvious fact that I've _been_ in his wells ...” he shrugged, “cause Mr. Anger Issues has got a serious issue with being a … well, a serious issue.”

“He was upset with me this morning. Yes, I know.”

Fukuda quirked a brow and pointed across the room in the general direction of the cell block. “Oh, he used **much** stronger words than that. Seeing as how there's a lady upstairs I won't even paraphrase what he wanted to do to you. Death would have been a mercy. Your _friend_ truly has an untapped creative potential.”

Freezing Momoki took a few steps in, nearing the center of the room beneath the lights. “Wait … he spoke to you?”

“Yeah, it's surprising how much he talks when someone just lets him. You're the numbskull who keeps getting in the way.”

Momoki closed the distance, gripping the collar of Fukuda's jumpsuit and tugging him forward. “What about? Tell me!”

Fukuda hung in his grasp, blinking lazily, amusement in his eyes. “Working through some heavy shit, you know, only getting down to what's **really** going on with the dude. Like we've been working towards for the past couple weeks until you came down this morning and threw him back into a foul mood.”

“But … why didn't you tell me this?”

“First off, you barely acknowledge me.” He held up his hands, still in Momoki's grip. “Which I get, so no hard feelings there. But it's a trust thing between us. And I uh … I don't mean him and me, I mean between those of us that the world tries to force into neat little boxes of assigned appropriate behaviors. Those of us who struggle with _your_ norm. Here's the deal, you kept wanting to just stare at the evidence of what was going on in his brain. Instead you should have been looking for the source of why he couldn't move on. You're talking about the guy who told me technically I would have been considered a numeric savant. That if I'd had a family that actually did something with that instead of trying to ditch my ass so they didn't have to deal with me anymore, I might have become an amazing professor, or contributed to some major program, instead of becoming a twisted serial killer locked up for life. Kinda like with his level of perception he could have been an astonishing detective—oh wait, he **was** until someone screwed him over and turned him into a psychopath costing him everything he ever valued. Heh, whatdya know.”

Flabbergasted, Momoki stood there speechless as his grip slowly released Fukuda.

“The long point is … where his mind was this morning, even after you pissed him off? There's no way he escaped and kidnapped Hondomachi.”

“You're sure?”

Fukuda pointed three times to his scar. “Heh. Sure as the hole in my head.”

Numb with shock, Momoki met Fukuda's stare. “We have to get him back.”

“Oh, I hear yeah. It'd be awfully lonely in the cell block without him. To be honest, he's been helping me out right back. So friend, clue me in. What do you need?”

“All we have at the moment is those two wells. There must be something more we can glean from them.”

Leaning back in the cockpit, Fukuda gripped the arms of the chair and narrowed his eyes. “Alright, lets see how long of a dive I can give you. Which one first, shooting gallery or whipping boy?”

_**~ID~** _

“Anaido has died.” Togo announced.

Momoki rubbed his forehead. “And not for lack of trying not to. I have to give him credit for at least trying to evade that shot. Extract him.”

“Sir, it's been hours. Fukuda's vitals are not looking the best.”

Through the speaker they could all hear him panting. On the screen he lay back, a bit paler even in the dim lights. _“Sorry … I've never been known … for having a strong … constitution.”_

“It's not the deaths than?” Momoki looked up.

He shook his head. _“No. That's fine. I'm just … really getting lightheaded.”_

“Ok. Got it.” Momoki furrowed his brow. The first twenty-four hours really were the most critical. Missing since just before eleven, that discovered just shy of three. And now it was … he swore, approaching seven in the evening. If that was Narihisago down there he'd push it … but … it wasn't. He shut his eyes. “Let's call it for now. Everyone go get something to eat.”

A low rumble of discussion where they would stop for dinner rose up on the ring as they shut down their stations.

“Togo, have Fukuda taken to his cell and make sure he gets a hearty meal.”

“ _Really?”_ A bit of bland excitement flickered in his voice.

“Yes, that was standard for Narihisago too when dives went long.” … when he remembered to say something to the staff. He shut his eyes. Maybe Narihisago **did** have grounds for being upset with him. How often had he abused him in this process, pushing him into exhaustion, overlooking the cost? “I know this takes a lot out of the pilot.” He stared at the screen grabs, his mind racing to connect the few dots they had.

“ _Hey, not to tell you how to do your job … but after dinner, if you want to chat about the dives maybe … ”_

“Haven't you had a long enough day?”

Fukuda looked at the camera and shrugged as Soma cuffed him while Itoh, the head of security, watched from the door. _“There's no one else in my cell block right now. What else am I going to do?”_

After the dives … when Narihisago was returned to his cell, … what had he done with his time? The answer came to him. That cold reply from the cockpit before a dive … _Stare at the walls. Not much else to do._ The question hadn't been asked by him, Wakashika's voice had spoken up eager to know something that Momoki hadn't even considered.

“Fukuda, I'll have them bring you to interrogation when you're done eating. Take your time.”

With both wrists cuffed together, he had no choice but to double salute in the camera as they took him out of the room.

Togo touched his shoulder. “Momoki? Are you going home tonight?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

He locked eyes with her. “How long it takes to exhaust the clues we have.”

_**~ID~** _

Momoki sat stiffly in his chair. Across the table Fukuda slouched in his, hands resting on the table, wrists cuffed together. Two armed guards stood by in case he decided to try anything. But that wasn't likely. He couldn't blame them for not trusting him, hell—they didn't trust Narihisago and he'd been one of them at some point. Why would they trust a guy who was purely a murderer in their eyes?

Momoki pushed through the images on the laptop going in a circle for the thirty-fifth time. “These can't be from arsonists a couple days ago. No signs of fire in them. Besides, the gas line was deemed an accident, faulty upkeep. Our agents found no particles in the sweeps. But if they're related to our case … there's usually some spacial tell. A landmark for a location. Neither one of these wells has even the vaguest hint of one. They aren't even so much as Tokyo specific.”

Tapping his finger on the table, Fukuda grinned. “I got a theory.” The moment he looked up, Fukuda flipped his hand palm up, rattling the cuffs. “Consider where it's the most obvious, our shooter well. A bunch of random people tethered to a generic carnival game. This isn't a single urge to kill. This is from someone who doesn't think of the separate act. It's part of their life. Like pouring a cup of coffee in the morning.”

“You know who you just sounded like … ”

“Yeah, and I should.” He shrugged. “I stole that observation straight from him. We've been talking about cases. Ones from when he was your partner and the well dives. His analysis, I really gotta say, it's staggering sometimes.”

Momoki leaned forward, obviously encouraging more.

Fukuda obliged. “When I first met the guy down in the cell blocks, I'll be honest, he was cold as hell. Wouldn't give me the time of day if he'd had a watch. Thought he was full of shit. Worse when I realized he was the one responsible for dredging up the clues to find me. Bastard won't even give me half a hint what's in my well not matter how nicely I ask him.” He held up a forefinger. “But, I'm sure you of all people know, once he starts laying out his observations, he has got a steel trap intellect. I am well read, and adore unraveling a good mystery novel before the brilliant detective gives it away. But I hadn't been chasing murder suspects in real life like he has. I can see why you use him so much.”

At that last line, Momoki shifted as though some invisible force had socked him in the gut.

Noting that, Fukuda continued as though nothing had happened. “One of the days last week he was comparing several cases and well dives tied not to masterminds or people with vendettas, but people who just plain killed because … ” he cocked his eyebrow, “it was their job.”

Momoki rubbed his chin, his gaze wandering to the still shots on the screen. “You mean to tell me that in his spare time he is categorizing the cases in his head?”

“Oh yeah, been doing that all along, if you believe what he says. And to be honest, I do. He noticed that with this kind of perp the symbolism is centered on their favorite form of infliction, lacking an extreme surreal overlay. It is a literal image of their MO. There is never a specific location, just a world built entirely around their method of execution because that is what defines them. That's what you got in these two without a doubt.” He raised one finger. “The first is a gun-crazed loony with an itchy trigger finger.” He raised another finger. “The second is a bit more reserved, staying to the shadows. But he savors a solid beat down. Probably some sadist who likes to feel the victim struggle. And if the info I have from reading about history is true, lashing someone to death is a slow grueling process only a bloodthirsty asshole would savor.”

“And you figured all that out and didn't say anything?”

“Earlier I was lightheaded.” He shrugged. “I thought about it over dinner. And as I said, it wasn't all me. Narihisago's advanced class in profiling is the main reason I even picked up on that. You ask me? You're looking at the guys who abducted Narihisago and Hondomachi.”

“Shit.” He tightened a fist. “Organized crime.”

Fukuda nodded slowly, spreading his hands as far as the cuffs would allow. “What a great place for an ex-cop to be in. Wonder what the going price would be for access to a walking encyclopedia of law enforcement protocols?”

He swore he could hear Momoki's heart beat tripping over itself.


	4. Chapter 4

The details seeped in slowly.

Pain enveloped her. The stench of hot oil and gasoline stung Hondomachi's nostrils. The left side of her head touched a rough surface, and it ached something awful. Not the worst pain she had felt, but close. She tried to open her eyes. A red film coated her left eye, through the other a wave of nausea slammed into her, forcing her eyes shut instantly. It wasn't just her head. In a twisted heap she lay on her left arm, something was terribly wrong with it, but she didn't want to open her eyes again to find out why. From several other places pain radiated.

Not far from her she heard a low moaning from more than one source. _What happened? It's all so surreal. Was this a dive? No it can't be … they would have pulled me out._

The last thing she remembered … thoughts swirled in an ocean stream of chaos, evading her grasp. The last thing she remembered was sitting in the back seat of a squad car going somewhere with someone.

A vehicle door closed. Followed by an unfamiliar voice, “Haha! 10:45, right on time. Bang-o! Cracked that sucker like an egg!”

“Tsuyoshi, you moron! The middle car was the important one! Did you even think about that? What if you killed the package?”

 _Voices … pay attention to the voices._ It was all she could do to cling to consciousness. _They hit police cars on purpose? Don't move, these aren't the people to cry out for help … obviously._

“Ehhh, well no big deal, Orochi. We get another one. OW! Why did you hit me?”

“Because there isn't another one, you dip shit. Just do what you're good at, take care of the cops, alright?”

“Can I shoot 'em?”

“I don't care what you do, so long as they can't squeal.”

“Hehe, you know what they say. Dead men tell no tales. Oh hey, they got guns on 'em.” Click. “And they're load—ed. Why waste my bullets. Smile bastard, this is the last thing you'll get to do.”

BLAM!

One source of moaning silenced.

Hondomachi tried to open her eyes again, but the light pierced the crack and forced her to shut them. All she could manage was to lie there, listening to the shoes scrape against the asphalt, trying in vain to track their movements and sort out what the hell happened.

The voice that she assumed belonged to Orochi called out, “Alright rat, make yourself useful. Get over here and show me who our package is before it's riddled with holes.”

Panicked screams filled the air, silenced by the sound of gunfire punching through glass.

Their steps approached closer, less than a few feet from her. Another voice replied, “That's him. The guy in the cuffs. I'm warning you, don't underestimate him. Akihito Narihisago can be a real handful.”

“That?” Orochi snorted a laugh. “You're joking. I thought the package was gonna be something a bit more substantial. Oh good, he's still breathing, so I don't have to throttle Tsuyoshi.”

“Huh?” Tsuyoshi's voice came from directly above her.

“Never mind, just keep capping the cops.”

“Ok, hehehehe.”

The nameless man only referred to as 'rat', cried out, “Wait! Not her! Take her with you. Shit, yeah, take her too.”

“The skirt? Why the hell would we want to do that?”

“That's Hondomachi. She's valuable to Kura. One of their field agents, and another diver.”

“Diver? What kind of a place is this?

“Never mind. Just trust me. You could ransom her back to them, or even sell her off to someone else.”

_Sell me off? What am I? A head of cattle?_

“If this guy checks out, we're not ransoming his ass. We'll be keeping him for our own use. You're taking a massive risk settling things like this. Tellin' ya, rat, if he doesn't check out, are you prepared for your ass to be in a sling?”

“Oh, he'll check out. Trust me. Don't forget, you have to remove that bio-chip from his wrist before you leave this intersection or they can still track him once they realize he's missing.”

“Good thing we hid the van in that garage. Should make do with the tools in there.”

“Right. I gotta get scarce. I'm serious, don't let him get loose and watch what he says to you. Don't let him get inside your head.” Hasty footsteps faded into the distance.

“Tsh, who does he think he's talking to? Kenta, Ryota, get over here, I need your muscles. The package is pinned beneath part of the car. I don't want to just yank him out. Tsuyoshi, cuff that girl. We're taking her with us.”

That was strange … these days Hondomachi rarely noticed the hole in the head. In this moment she couldn't possibly ignore it. A breeze blew through it, far warmer than the chill air against the rest of the skin.

The moment the hands rolled her body, a wave of pain shot through her and relentlessly dragged her consciousness down.

_**~ID~** _

Bobbing like a pain-filled cork, Hondomachi edged back to the surface, brushing consciousness again. This time she was slumped against a wall. The echoes of something … metal clanking against metal, contained within walls. They were inside a small building. More oil and stale smoke filled her nose.

She was in an awkward position, hands behind her back, something cold and hard binding them there. Cuffs were the obvious conclusion. Her left arm throbbed. Shifting her head back she felt the shoulder tug on the limb and bit back the scream. The iron taste of blood tainted her mouth as teeth clamped on tongue. Realization set in, her elbow was dislocated.

 _Don't pass out. Deep breaths. You can get through this. All you have to do …_ her mind froze as she realized what she'd have to do. Slam it back into alignment.

Orochi growled off to her right. “I mean it, make sure he's chained down tight to the table.”

“I did. He can't do anything. The guy's out cold.”

“I don't give a shit if he is, Ryota. What I don't want is for him to move when I'm digging into his wrist. Now, hold his arm down. Tight. Tighter!”

Driven by desperation, Hondomachi forced her eyes open, despite the irritation she looked around, trying not to move her head much. There was hardly any light in the room. Aside from the rays through the door, a small light over the table provided the most immediate source. A white unmarked cargo van was just out of her foot reach. Two men outlined by the shop light stood by the table. It was hard to make out features as the slighter built one with the long hair pulled back in a rough ponytail held a knife to a blow torch flame. But around the edges of their clothing their skin looked strange, colored … tattooed?

“There, it's glowing.” The one with the knife was Orochi, she knew that much. “Should be sterile enough now. First, this thing has to go.” He cut through something and dropped it to the floor. A white bracelet that looked familiar, belonging to someone she knew.

The men moved closer to the center of the table, Ryota held something down. A wrist? Palm up?

Hondomachi followed it back up and drew in a sharp breath. The man on the table, secured to it by heavy chains wrapped tight around his chest and torso—was Narihisago. Face slack, his eyes were closed, the left side of his hair matted with blood, the eye already discoloring from a spreading bruise.

Orochi punched the blade tip into the exposed wrist.

Immediately Narihisago stirred, his brow furrowed. His eyes barely flickered open before a desperate wail escaped him. The chains clanked as he tried feebly to pull his arm away. His screams were primal, instinctual. Like a wounded animal.

Off the edge of the table, blood dripped down as Orochi cursed, “Damn it! I said hold him still! This chip thing is the size of a grain of rice!”

 _No … stop hurting him. Why are you doing this?_ Not even a syllable reached her lips as she lay slumped against the wall forced to watch. His screaming dug deep into her, distorting her vision., burning the hole in her forehead.

It wasn't stopping. It wasn't stopping!

“Good thing you had me chain him down. He's stronger than he looks. Hurry up, my hand's getting sore!”

“Shut it, Ryota. Wait … is that … yes! There's the little bastard.” Orochi held up the knife with a small object balanced on the edge of it.

The moment he stopped digging in his flesh, Narihisago lay still, whimpering. He barely looked conscious.

Taking the blow torch, Orochi held the blade and the bloody capsule in the hottest part of the flame. After about half a minute there was a crackling pop. He dropped the bio-chip on the floor into the blood puddle. “That oughta do it.”

“Hey, he's still bleeding.”

“Not for long.” Orochi laid the still glowing blade flat on Narihisago's wrist.

The flesh hissed. His hand spread out in the shock as a strained cry left him … followed by all the tension abandoning him. When Hondomachi looked at his face, it had gone completely slack.

“There. Now it's not bleeding. Hand me that cloth, I'll bind it. Don't want the cuffs rubbing open the blister. If this guy is **that** good we don't want to lose him to carelessness or the boss'll take his pound of flesh from us. Now, go get Kenta and Tsuyoshi. They should have removed the stolen wreckers by now and concealed them. We need to get out of here before someone notices the cameras.”

Her arm throbbed. The angle of the cuffs pulled at it. This was going to hurt, but she knew what she had to do. Surely it would feel better once it was back in. Gritting her teeth, Hondomachi rolled slightly away from the wall, far enough to get a good swing in.

She steeled herself for this. _The only way I can help him is if I'm not crippled by this. And right now … fuck this hurts!_

Crack!

She slammed her elbow against the wall. It radiated out, white hot agony. Something small and light fell from her head, clinking onto the concrete floor. She gritted her teeth until they squealed. The world shifted around, unstable like a bad dive. Her head drooped forward as vision tunneled and turned to black … at least the pain went with it.

_**~ID~** _

Dripping. Like a faucet that wouldn't shut all the damn way off. An annoying cadence that punctured the dark stillness in which he lay. It drew him out one relentless plunk at a time.

In between the drops he listened, parsing out the clues. A howling accompanied the drips, much like wind flowing through a narrow opening … no, several openings. A chill breeze pricked the hairs on his bare arms. There weren't much more sensations to ground himself to. No immediate threat seemed present.

_Odd … is this a dive? Who am I?_

It came to him in the next moment flowing like a current. _Akihito Narihisago. Nope, not a well. Which means … aww shit … this is reality._

He kept his breathing at a constant rate, still feeling out the scenario. Though he didn't think he was being watched, he couldn't be certain.

This wasn't right. Mingled with the iron tang of blood, the scent of mildew and mold was out of place for Kura or a hospital. There was no logical reason he could discern that he'd be lying on his side on such a hard surface. Both his hands were cuffed behind his back … at least that part felt right. But what he was clawing his way to the surface from … this was not sedation. It was familiar enough from well dives that hadn't worked out as planned. That's what troubled him.

The left side of his head felt similar to a bad landing after a fall … or from the well within a well when the Challenger had beaten the shit out of him. Frankly, it felt precisely like that. It didn't escape him that in several patches on his left side a burning sensation like road rash nagged him even without moving.

 _What happened …_ he grabbed at the strands of the memories trying to reconstruct the bits and pieces. He'd been riding in a car for the first time in over a year. He and Hondomachi had left Kura bound for some ridiculous test when … he stiffened … these memories were more like brief flashes, incomplete. The world tumbling, staring out the cracked windshield to see it filled with asphalt. Flung from the vehicle torn apart by the force. He hadn't felt the final collision with the ground. But he must have landed hard enough to be knocked out. The next halfway woken moment was—blinding searing agony!

Beneath his right cuff a deep stinging pain radiated from the center of his wrist. He flexed his hand, the fingers all moved. But it irritated whatever had been done. He grunted.

 _Wait … that felt weird … what the hell is in my mouth?_ Shifting his head against the ground he felt a thick strip of rough cloth rub against his cheek. The cloth gag filled between his teeth, secured behind his head. That explained why his mouth was so dry.

He cracked open his eyes. _Fool, you can't see a gag in your own mouth._ But he couldn't ignore the discolored swelling up into his left eye's line of vision, a telltale sign of a black eye. Probably spread from the concussion. He peered through strands of blood crusted hair dangling over his half swollen eye. Why had he let his hair get so long? Because … it was yet another part of his life he had no control over.

Shafts of daylight poured through the rusted sheet metal roof. Droplets fell through, illuminated briefly before they vanished into the darkness. Wherever he was, it was an upper floor, not too far from the rafters of a large drafty building. Through the light sheers it was difficult to see much of the structure. He lay on rusted metal grating still in his prison attire, with the sleeves of the jumpsuit tattered around his waist. That was no longer white, it was smeared with gray and black, torn with blood staining the edges. The same as his black t-shirt, though that hid the staining better, the puckered tears showed patches of road rash.

First things first, this pesky gag had to go. Rubbing his head back he tried to catch the knot. He grunted with the effort. Shifting his head left him dizzy. Suddenly there was a pressure tugging the gag backward. Reflexes kicked in, he struggled wildly.

Someone cuffed the back of his head. “Will you hold still! I'm trying to help you!”

That voice, even though it was quiet, he knew that voice. He tried to turn and look but the angle wouldn't allow it.

Hondomachi hissed, “Son of a—hold still, Narihisago! I almost had it until you yanked it! It's not easy when I can't see what I'm doing behind my back.”

Forcing himself to lie still, he felt her fingers working at the nape of his neck. Not far from his ear a chain clanked,by the sound one far stouter than the links on the cuffs. The pressure on the gag at last released. He dragged his cheek across the grating and left the saliva soaked cloth behind.

“There.” Hondomachi shuffled around behind him, metal clinked against metal.

He gasped, “Where are we?” Trapped on his right shoulder, he couldn't see her. But he shifted his wrists enough that his fingers brushed against what he dreaded he'd find. The thick cold links of a chain locked to his cuffs. He had a feeling he knew what the other end was attached to. They were close to a wall, a gap in the siding allowed that breeze blowing over his bare arms.

“I'm not sure.” She kept her voice level, just above a whisper. “I woke up briefly earlier, some men were taking us from the crash site.”

Just like her he whispered back, “Did you get a good look at them?”

“Mmm mmm. Sorry. It was dark when I was able to open my eyes, the light source on the other side. But I did see what looked like tattoos.”

His eyes narrowed. “Tattoos? A lot of them?”

“Yes. One of them was covered in ink, weaving through them around his neck I think he had a long dragon or a snake? I'm not sure.”

Resting his forehead against the grating he exhaled. “Shit, shit, shit, … yakuza.”

The chain clanked. “Are you sure?”

“Ninety-five percent. Had a few run ins in the past. This isn't good. We have to get out of here—fast. Or we'll get moved deeper, well out of reach.” Turning his wrists in the cuffs he attempted to work the release loose.

“Uhh, you can't get out of those, can you?”

“Sometimes.” He gritted his teeth, fighting for the right damn angle. “There's a trick to it … doesn't always work. Really freaks out the guards when it does.” He huffed a breath as it caught against the pain, now he could tell there was a bandage. “Fuck!” Somehow he kept that just above a whisper. “What happened to my wrist?”

“They cut your chip out. I watched the one with the most tattoos do it.”

He froze, eyes widening. “No … not the chip! That means … that was the only way to track us … ”

“Well, there was another.” Hondomachi sighed. “But I either dropped my phone in the crash or they found it. It's not on me anymore.”

Defeated by the lock, Narihisago slumped against the floor. “More bad news, someone knew about the catch on the cuff locks. I can't get out of these with that engaged, especially with my wrist all fucked up. Somehow they knew about that and Kura's implanted chip.”

“Yeah, he reminded them to take it out of you.”

He tried to glance back but couldn't manage the angle, it was rather like being a fish out of water. “You heard _him_? Who them about that?”

“I don't know, couldn't place the voice. I couldn't open my eyes at the time. We were still out by the cars.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Narihisago, I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I'd be worried if you didn't. Because at this point we're on our own and in serious deep shit. There's a number of things they could want to do to us. Killing us would be the most merciful of those. First I need to—” his words dissolved into a full throated wail as he shifted his left leg. The moment he did, a wave of disorienting agony threatened to drag him down into darkness.

_Resist it … come on, Narihisago. You've faced some pretty dire situations in the wells and pulled through. How many times have you experienced death? It's no big deal. Use it! Focus—stay conscious—push through. You have to do it for Hondomachi's sake._

Her chain clanked as she shuffled forward just above his shoulder. “What's wrong?”

His breath hissed through clenched teeth, fighting to open his eyes again. “I think … my ankle … is shattered.”

“Yeah,” she swallowed loud enough for him to hear, “you really may not want to look at that.”

Against her advice he shifted his body enough for a glance. His shoes were both missing. But his left foot was nothing but a swollen discolored mass of road rash chewed skin. His ankle didn't seem to be at the correct angle either. It was impossible to gauge how badly it was mangled internally. But if the color was any indication, there was no way it was able to bear any weight.

His heart sank … there would be no _running_ away.

The clank of heavy footsteps up a metal staircase silenced them. It came from the direction over his feet as Narihisago bit back his cries against the waves of pain throbbing up his leg.

Slowly a burly man emerged on a staircase. The shafts of sunlight caught the ink on his skin. A collar-like tattoo woven with a large snake wrapped around his collarbones, visible through the v-neck shirt he wore beneath his leather jacket. More ink bled into the skin of his wrists. There was no doubt in Narihisago's mind, that ink was the edges of a yakuza body tattoo. This man was ranked. He turned his head quickly, flicking a long black ponytail. “Well, well, well, look who's awake. And perfect timing too.” Heavy shoes clanged against the grating as he came closer, standing before Narihisago with a sinister smile, cracking his knuckles. “The boss just pulled up.”


	5. Chapter 5

One breath at a time Narihisago forced down the growing panic attack threatening to steal his reason. Losing his shit right now would do nothing to help him. In fact, panicking was the one thing that would make things worse. He had to stay rational, swallow the pain and keep his wits about him.

They'd been taken hostage by a powerful crime syndicate. Crippled and bound to the point where the best he could hope to manage was an imitation of a lame inch worm, chained to a damn wall in some dilapidated old building, his only resources were his intellect and a fellow well diver.

A shiver went down his spine. Hondomachi. What did they want with her? Now _there_ was a dark alley of thought he didn't even want to consider. Groups of yakuza dealt with different facets, some included human trafficking—

_NO! Focus. Don't buy into the intimidation. Information will get us out of this mess. There's a solution. Find it!_

Down below came the repetitive squeal and the clank of something heavy being lifted.

_An overhead door. This building is large enough for a loading bay of some sort._

The rumble of an engine grew closer, louder as it entered the building. The exhaust fumes wafted up as the engine cut and the door clanked back down. A car door opened and closed.

Footsteps crunched debris on concrete. “Tsuyoshi, you boys know I dislike this filthy place.”

“Sorry, Mr. Yuu Konya. Orochi said we didn't have many options, thought this would work the best.”

The second Orochi was said, the tattooed man standing beside Narihisago rolled his eyes over his shoulder and whispered, “Why that backstabbing piece of shit!”

Konya's voice was smooth, almost elegant. “Where is the package?”

“Upstairs.”

Turning to face the top of the stairs well out of swiping range, Orochi widened his stance crossing his arms over his chest.

_Classic posturing. Though … I can't be sure what's beneath that leather jacket. He probably has enough muscle to back it up. Don't be too hasty._

To his surprise, four men, not two, crested the staircases. As they passed through the shafts of light he took in as much detail as he could. The bright red haired man in the front wore a biker jacket covered in patches to such a degree he couldn't focus on a single one. Not particularly tall or strongly built, he had a scar on the right side of his face visible even from a distance. Beneath his sleeves the edges of his ink showed. The wild scowl of a roaring tiger peered over the neckline of his shirt. The moment his eyes caught Orochi, he averted them. He wasn't a leader. At a rough guess, Narihisago assumed this one must be Tsuyoshi.

Behind him, a slighter man walked with a purposeful stride, able to peer over Tsuyoshi's shoulder. Dressed in a finely-tailored suit that concealed every bit of inking on his body. At a glance, by design, he would appear the average businessman. But there was a glint in the corner of his eye behind the wire rimmed glasses, and the gleam of gold on his ring wrapped fingers. Didn't need to be a brilliant detective to know that was the boss … Yuu Konya.

The other two silently stood behind. Hulking masses of muscle, they both looked as if they'd come straight from the fight rings. Torn jeans and hooded sweatshirts, they had their guns rammed into their waistbands just like common thugs.

Konya stared directly at Orochi. “What an inconvenience to have to come here. I am regretting this deal.”

Orochi bowed ever so slightly, but kept his eyes level with his boss. “Unavoidable, but the rat assures us its worth the hassle. This safe-house seemed the best option for you to evaluate the payment.”

Slowly, he slid his gaze down to Narihisago. His bland expression didn't change. “This is my payment?”

All four of the other men nodded.

Stepping around Orochi, Konya remained at a distance looking Narihisago up and down with a scrutinizing eye. “It's damaged.”

“Only way we could get our hands on it.”

_It? Package? Payment? Why are they talking about me like that? What the hell is going on?_

“Well, we'll have to see if the transaction is sufficient to cover the debt. Let me see, I do recall a name being mentioned.” He tapped a finger on his wrist. “Oh yes, that's right. Akihito Narihisago. May I call you Akihito?”

Coldly he replied, “Do I look like I want to be friends with you?” He observed only the vague indifference to his remark. Maybe the boss hadn't gotten the clue. “Just to clarify, that means fuck no.”

Konya held up a hand as Orochi drew a foot back to kick him.

“Sir, he insulted you.”

“Do not interrupt my assessment of the payment.”

Stiffening a bit, Orochi took a step backward. Tsuyoshi barely concealed a wry grin.

_That doesn't mean I won't pay for that remark eventually._ Narihisago kept his main focus on Konya. The guy was rock solid, unflinching.  _He's surrounded by four attack dogs and we're both chained, so truthfully what does he have to fear?_

“Orochi,” Konya's eyebrow raised, “why are there two of them?”

“Rat told us she was a bonus. Apparently she's valuable to them too. Decided to take her hostage as well.”

Her chain rattled vigorously. “Why you—You'll regret—”

Tsuyoshi threw something against the wall to where Narihisago guessed she would be. Over the vibrating metal he heard a low growl, but Hondomachi didn't say anything more.

_Good, she's ok. Now please don't say anything for the moment. Hard enough to work this from my end as it is._ He didn't dare ask her shut up.  _That'd be rich, a prisoner telling an officer what to do._

Konya pushed his glasses up his nose. “A matter to deal with that later. What I am most interested in right now is my promised compensation.” Shifting his gaze back to Narihisago he narrowed his eyes. “I have heard some very interesting things about you.”

Still lying on his right side holding his head at an awkward angle, Narihisago's neck was already sore. Forced to lie prone, he scowled up at the towering Konya. “I have no idea who you are. But you're making a piss poor first impression.”

Snapping his fingers, he pointed. “Ryota, Kenta.”

The two brutes came forward and wordlessly grabbed his upper arms, hauling him off the floor. Swiftly, Narihisago tried to hold his foot up enough to keep it from being jarred as they dragged him upright. He had steeled himself enough for now to push through the irritation. It seemed like his weight was nothing in their arms. But the motion afforded him a glimpse behind. The wall hadn't been too far behind him. And sure enough there were patches of daylight piercing the metal siding. The hauling chain affixed to an exposed support beam and locked to his cuffs was far longer than he'd realized. Unfortunately only enough to get about halfway to the stairs … even if he could walk. Hondomachi leaned against the wall, in torn cloths, dirty and roughed up. Her arms behind her back and a similar chain coming from behind, running to the same beam his own was attached to. The left sleeve of her suit jacket was tighter around the elbow than the right. The hair clip he always saw her with, missing leaving her hair a mess. Dried blood stained her forehead and her left eye swelled with a bruise. But even that did nothing to quell the fire burning in her eyes. She issued a challenging glare at Konya.

_Easy Hondomachi. Don't push things too early. They wanted me for a reason … why?_

Konya, if he even noticed, paid her no mind as he studied Narihisago held up before him. Narihisago fought to hold his eyes steady against the pain, but at the moment the bluff was all he had. Strong enough that his obvious injuries didn't bother him. “What do you want with me?”

“My apologies for the lack of hospitality. We don't have a seat for you because all of our chairs are currently occupied. However, I do believe there is a way one could be freed up for you.” Konya snapped his fingers.

With a chuckle, Tsuyoshi dashed across the upper floor into a small closed off room followed by the rumble of wheels. A moment later he came through the darkened doorway with a man thoroughly zip-tied to a desk chair. A strip of cloth gagged him. His off the rack suit was rumpled and stained. Panic roiled in his eyes as he fought in vain against the restraints.

Konya held out a hand. “Narihisago. I am told you have a certain talent. By word alone you are capable of pushing a man into taking his own life. Izanagi has displeased me and failed to be of proper service. I wish you to dispose of him.”

Unable to free himself from the thugs' grasp, Narihisago didn't even waste his strength on trying to struggle. Besides, his mind was too preoccupied chasing the troublesome question. How could word have possibly reached him about  _that_ ? No one outside of Kura knew about his bad habit. To the best of his knowledge, thanks to his name being stripped from everything, a handful of years ago he'd virtually ceased to exist to the outside world. 

“No.”

A blink. Slow, measured. “Excuse me?”

“I said no. I won't do it.”

“That wasn't a request.” The shift was subtle, but there in his eyes. A man used to being obeyed without question. “It was an order.”

Narihisago furrowed his brow. “I don't work for you.”

“On the contrary. You are now my property and you will do precisely as I say.”

“Heh, well, it doesn't matter. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. There are certain conditions required.”

Konya's eyes glistened. He took a step closer. “Then … it is true. You can do it.”

_Shit._ Narihisago shut his eyes.  _Careful what you say!_

“What do you require?”

Reopening his eyes, Narihisago didn't reply. He just kept a hard stare on the man hoping, though he doubted it would work, to intimidate him. The contest lasted several minutes.

“Narihisago, you seem to be unaware of just how dire of a situation you are in. I can assure you … conditions will change rapidly if you refuse to comply. Choose wisely.” He waved an arm and turned for the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “Ryota, Kenta. It appears our guest needs some time to think things over.”

They dragged him over toward the wall dropping him backward against it in a heap. Bound as he was, Narihisago could do nothing to stop the descent. Nor could he suppress the yelp as his injured ankle accidentally took a portion of his weight. Cocked slightly to the right, he landed on his hip, slumped against the cold sheet metal of the wall.

The thugs grunted laughs as they walked away down the stairs, leaving the panicked Izanagi in the middle of the room.

Narihisago took a few deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Hondomachi knelt beside him.

He glanced at her, prepped for a serious answer. But when he opened his eyes he burst into laughter at the sight.

“What?” She jerked forward in agitation.

Forcing it down he lifted his face, turning the left eye closer to her. “That's a hell of a shiner you got. Look at us now, we could be twins.”

“Grrfff!” She rolled her eyes. “Guess that means you're alright.”

“Sorry.” He swallowed the laughing fit, shifting a bit to try and get more comfortable, though that was a long shot. “I can only imagine what a wreck I look like about now. I didn't mean anything.”

“Oh … you're definitely a hot mess, alright. Tck!”

They lapsed into silence listening to the dripping through the ceiling and the indiscernible idle chatter from the thugs below. Hondomachi gazed out into the darkness past the railing that cut off the second floor. “You had run ins with yakuza before?”

Narihisago laid his head back against the cold metal. “When I was a detective—”

She interrupted, staring hard at him. “You still are a detective.”

Shame closed Narihisago's eyes, unable to take the intensity of her look. Head bowed, he began again. “ _When_ I was a detective Momoki and I had a handful of cases that crossed paths with yakuza activities. We picked up a number of trends over the years.”

Hondomachi sat back, hanging on his every word, though he failed to see why she'd be so interested in anything a failure like him had to say.

“To be honest, we never fought with them outright. More or less we uncovered a number of highly illegal operations which exposed some of the inner workings. They're a big sprawling network reaching into practically every facet of society, shutting them down completely would prove impossible. After interrogating a bunch of yakuza members some of their trends became obvious.”

“The tattoos?”

“Yeah. I mean it's not like every tattoo is linked to yakuza.” He shrugged. “People get 'em for a lot of benign reasons. However, you saw Orochi and Tsuyoshi's tattoos? How they look almost like a shirt?”

She nodded.

“That kind of detailed pattern is earned and built over time. Those two are high ranked, blood deep into the organization.”

“But, I didn't see any ink on Yuu Konya.”

“Oh, he's marked alright. Since he's on the business side of things his is designed to be concealed beneath his suit. That way he can operate in public without anyone being the wiser. The other four came up through the thug ranks. They don't have to be as subtle. In fact, sporting them is part of their intimidation. Ryota and Kenta are bottom rungs, in enough to have a few significant markings, but they aren't ranked—yet.”

“What do they have to do get ranked?”

“Depending on their boss,” he shrugged, “probably score enough kills. I'm not sure yet, haven't gotten a good enough read on Konya.”

She cocked her head. “There's no avoiding it, we're going to need help to get out of this.”

“An ally?” He huffed a laugh hanging his head. “Not gonna get it from any of them. Orochi and Tsuyoshi have been in long enough they won't even question their orders. Know enough not to.”

“What about the other two?”

“Ryota and Kenta?” He met her gaze and shook his head. “Low level unranked are the most desperate to prove their worth. They won't even consider stepping over the line.”

From the chair, Izanagi's muffled cries accompanied his frantic thrashing. It did him no good. Narihisago couldn't even crawl if he'd dared to try. And Hondomachi's chain was too short to reach him, even if she had something to cut him free with. They were a trio of prisoners and Izanagi was making the worst mistake.

Watching him, Narihisago's eyes narrowed. “Panic is just a waste of precious resources. Stay calm and keep your wits, Hondomachi. That's the only chance we have of finding a way to get out of this alive.”


	6. Chapter 6

Matsuoka stood in the smoke damaged auto shop in the evening sunlight. It hadn't yet begun to fade, but it would soon. A chill already clung in the air. Once night fell it would only get colder. By now the evidence had been cataloged, the bodies of the six officers and the three squad cars removed. Matsuoka had collected the blood samples himself and sent them on a rush to the lab.

In his pocket the small hair clip weighed heavy. Memories of the cheerily morbid girl haunted him. Where was she? Was she alright? On her first day as a rookie in the Kura he had failed to keep her out of danger. Hondomachi had fallen victim to the Perforator—on _his_ watch. If she hadn't, maybe she would only be a field agent and not …

His hand trembled as it gripped the clip. _Now she's with that piece of shit Narihisago! No telling what that sick bastard might do to her._

A throat being cleared snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to discover a man in a suit with short dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses observing him. “Detective Kokuryu Matsuoka from the Kura?”

“Yeah, what do you want?”

“My name is Detective Teruo Yokota.” He stood uptight as a ramrod up his ass. “I've been sent over from the Metropolitan Police Department First Investigation Division to assist in the missing persons case.”

Thus far Matsuoka had been working alongside a handful of unis. Not much had shaken loose beyond the obvious. His patience worn thin, he snapped, “You a seasoned detective, Yokota?”

The man didn't smile at that, keeping a stern face as he replied bluntly, “Eight years.”

Certainly that meant he had worked alongside him in the First, but at the moment he couldn't remember him. Maybe it was fatigue, maybe it was hunger from staying on the scene this long, maybe Yokota just hadn't done anything that grabbed his attention in those years.

“Sir,” Yokota's hard stare remained fixed, “I find it remarkably ironic that given how _extraordinary_ the Kura is reputed to be that you guys had to request assistance from the First.”

That was a remarkably large chip on his shoulder. Matsuoka frowned, the edges of the hair clip pressing into his fingers still concealed inside his pocket.

“Don't you have some sophisticated method to catch criminals in the act? Everyone keeps going on about it. You ask me the Kura is nothing but a department filled with hot air.”

With a grunt, Matsuoka brought himself up to his full height. “No one asked you, boy.”

“Boy? I'm—”

“I don't give a rat's ass how old you are.” Heat built on his cheeks. “Put your department ego away right now! You listen to me. We have two missing people. One of them an invaluable field agent, the other is a dangerous convict. Time is of the essence.”

Yokota took a step back as he wiped spittle from his glasses with a handkerchief. “And just how _did_ the Kura manage to lose a convict from their own private little prison?”

Hackles rising, Matsuoka pressed further into the man's space. “That's what you're here to help us find out. Now shut up and let me brief you.” As quickly as he could, he laid out the evidence, walking Yokota through what had been found. They ended by the tool bench in the auto garage.

“A bio-chip with a tracker? That's some hi-tech stuff.” Yokota bent down where it had been previously retrieved. “Where was it?”

“Embedded in his right wrist.”

“And your prisoner knew about it?” Yokota cracked a wry grin. “Why did anyone make him aware of this?”

“No one told him.” Matsuoka huffed a breath. “The guy is perceptive enough to have figured it out. Besides, there was an insertion procedure. Even if he'd been knocked out for it, he would have noticed the short term scar.” Momoki's remark came back to him. “But that's not how he confirmed it. He saw another inmate die from digging out his own.”

He flexed his hand staring at it. “Not the best way to die, bleeding out at the wrist. I mean, that is a massive risk to take. A real act of desperation.”

“With it in he could be tracked. Anyone trying to get away would risk that to avoid detection.” As much as he hated the killer, he had to admit—the man was that clever. What bothered Matsuoka the most was what Narihisago was accustomed to facing, all the knowledge he would have gleaned from diving into the minds of murderers.

Yokota crouched down and looked at the pile of chains. “Have these been moved?”

“Not by us.” Now that he looked a bit closer, they had been moved recently, at least since the gas line explosion. There was a bare space in the soot covering the floor. Scrapes of bare metal on the inside of the links proved something had been forced through the links. “What the hell is this?”

He would have said that it had been from the mechanics before the fire, but there was fresh blood scraped away.

“More evidence.” Yokota snapped on some gloves. “So, tell me, how dangerous is this guy?”

“Honestly … ” Matsuoka focused on the indentation in the congealed blood where the sliced bracelet had been recovered, “I don't know. And that's what worries me.”

_**~ID~** _

Hours passed uneventfully … at least she thought it had been hours. Hondomachi glanced to Izanagi, by now the man had fallen silent in his gag, sagging against the restraints in the desk chair, nearly catatonic. The thugs had been thorough enough to secure his feet so he couldn't even kick. Hard to imagine how frightened the guy must have been, unable to move anything but his head while people threatened to kill him.

Beside her, Narihisago sat slumped against the wall with his eyes closed, but he wasn't sleeping. Something about him betrayed it. It was the way his eyes shifted beneath the lids. That wasn't REM sleep. He was up to something.

Shifting her hands in the cuffs she brushed her fingers against the padlock securing her cuffs to the stout chain. Already her shoulders ached, but she was glad her elbow seemed to be back in. Still, there was no getting comfortable on the uneven metal grating, leaning against the frigid rusted sheet metal siding. The wind howled through the gaps searching out all the tears in her suit and pricking goose bumps on her skin. She heaved a sigh.

Narihisago's right eye cracked open, the one closest to her.

“I'm ok,” she muttered. “Didn't mean to wake you.”

“Wasn't sleeping.”

Well, that confirmed her suspicion. “What _were_ you doing?”

“Listening. Thinking. Trying to figure a way out of this that doesn't involve offing him.” When he looked up she got a glance of his left eye, the blackened top lid drooped from swelling, but it still opened enough he should be able to see. “Fact is, if I do push him that would hardly earn a release. They'll just want me to do it again.”

“Sooo … ” she held her breath a moment choosing her words carefully, “I mean I heard Uraido mention it … but you can do that? You really can … ?”

“Profile someone to death?” He finished with a single nod.

Izanagi squealed into his gag.

“Relax.” Narihisago eyed him. “Did you kill anyone?”

He frantically shook his head.

“Then you're safe. Just keep that gag in and don't tell me anything about yourself. A name isn't nearly enough.”

Hondomachi wasn't sure, but she thought Izanagi passed out. “I didn't want to believe it was true ...that it was just rumors from the staff.”

He bowed his head. “I wish that's all it was. Sometimes I wish I could just go into some perpetual dive as Sakaido, oblivious to the damn truth of what I am.”

“What you are? You're a brilliant detective.”

He cringed.

“Why does that bother you?”

“Because … ” He closed his eyes with a sigh.

“Is it because of what Matsuoka told me? That to be a pilot it requires having killed someone.”

“Matsuoka doesn't know what he's talking about.” He lifted a shoulder. “Not that he was a terrible detective, just that he had a tendency not to dig deep enough to reach a full understanding.”

“Well, you're not wrong.”

That earned her a half smile.

“You know he hates you.”

He huffed a laugh. “That's hardly news. The man hated me the day I joined the First Division.”

“Why? Did you bring him a bad cup of coffee or something?”

“No.” He looked her in the eyes. “I observed something about Matsuoka over the years. His favorite thing is instructing rookies. When I entered the department, between Momoki and I, we already had a solid handle on what we were doing and he couldn't stand it. But I guess he changed a bit over the years.” Narihisago offered her a melancholic earnest smile. “He didn't hate you.”

It took a moment for his meaning to hit her. Blush burnt her cheeks. She turned and buried her face against her far shoulder.

“From what Momoki tells me,” his shoulders sagged a bit further, “when he does talk to me these days, you're doing remarkably well. Years ago the Matsuoka I knew would have loathed you for that.”

“Still,” she grumbled, “he did recommend me for the pilot program to get me away from him and the other agents. To think … I'm a serial killer in the eyes of the Mizuhanome.”

Narihisago looked off into the distance where the sun's rays stretched longer vs vertical. “I don't think it's that we're serial killers … I mean this is just a theory, but I think it's more because we've embraced death. We understand it … intimately.”

That struck a strange cord. What did he mean by that? “Embraced death? You mean like … wait, are you talking about our own?”

Narihisago refused to look at her. “Think about it, it applies to all of us … Hayaseura shot himself multiple times.” The chain clanked as his fist tightened, lip curling as he said the name. Taking a deep breath he moved on, the fury left his eyes. “Fukuda is suicidal as hell, if he hadn't come right out and said it I would have known simply watching him as Anaido. It's obvious. The hole in your head is your proof. You were ready to die that day to make sure the Perforator got caught. And Kiki, well … ” he rested his head back against the wall “ … I _know_ what she wants.”

Hondomachi pondered his words for a moment. “That leaves you ...” He rolled his head toward her with a weary expression. She looked into his eyes, the gaze held for a few moments before his eyes trembled and he turned away from her, head bowed deep. His overgrown hair now hiding his face. “Narihisago … _you?_ ”

“What can I say … by the time Momoki recruited me from life in prison I was … not in a good head-space. If I could have found same way to snuff out my pointless lingering existence … I would have done it.”

The image of him dead, not Sakaido but the man next to her, sent a shudder through her. “No!”

He laughed hollowly. “Obviously that didn't happen. To be honest, most days I'm not staring down that barrel of thought anymore. I mean I have a purpose. Right?” His hoarse voice cut the word short as he hung his head shivering, shame in his eyes. “At least I did … until I couldn't keep my damn mouth shut.”

The hurt in his eyes wasn't from the physical pain. Hondomachi found herself at a momentary loss for words, sorting for something, anything to say. “To be honest … I'm glad it's you at my side right now.”

“It's me they actually wanted. It's my fault we're even here in the first place.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Please. Like you asked for this. Come on, if anyone can get us out of this, Sakaido can.”

“You have a Mizuhanome cockpit hanging around?”

“No. But we have two pilots.”

_**~ID~** _

_Misery and dire circumstances, my constant nagging companions. The more things change—the more they stay the same_ , Narihisago thought behind closed eyes. Aside from the extended time being bound and the perpetual discomfort, this felt similar enough to killing time in his cell. In the lengthy silences he let his mind wander through a labyrinth; weighing different options, exploring his prior knowledge and pairing it with what he'd recently picked up. Just plain trying to distract himself from the pain and his welling temper. 

From the floor below he had heard two of the four thugs leave. That meant they had two left keeping watch. Unfortunately the voices had been too garbled by the echoes, and they hadn't used names, so he couldn't tell who had drawn the short straws for the overnight guard duty. The tones had told him all he needed to know. Staying here was not a desirable task. Not a surprise. It was clear this place didn't have electricity from the scent of a camping oil lantern. Somehow he doubted there was running water.

A faint whimper to his right caught his attention. He opened his eyes to find Hondomachi, hunched over, knees drawn up and wriggling back and forth. She was fretting terribly. Biting her lip for a moment she clenched her eyes and whispered, “I have to go!”

_Well, this is a problem there isn't an elegant solution for._ “Uhh, hate to tell yah, but I really think calling out to the thugs is a lost cause.”

She twisted her ankles. “Mmmmmmmmm!”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “You can try if you want one of them yanking your … ” He stopped as her eyes widened at the prospect. “How else is that gonna happen? Do you really think they're going to unlock you cause you're just a girl?”

“I am **not** just a girl!” In a swift move, Hondomachi punted him in the gut with the heel of her shoe.

Narihisago couldn't avoid the solid strike. He hissed in a breath, hunching over with a groan that turned to a laugh. “You just kicked the piss out of me … literally.”

Even in the low light, her cheeks reddened, “Oh my God, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!”

“S'ok, I couldn't have held it much longer.” He sighed. “Besides, already used to it from the cockpit. Dive enough, you'll get there too. Momoki's not a bad guy, but he gets fixated. Kind of forgets about things like … ohhh necessities.”

Still in the midst of a seated frantic dance, he swore it looked like her eyes were floating. “He did that to you once?”

“More often than I care admit. More often than he's probably aware of. I really pity the cleaning staff.” As he watched her squirming he shook his head. “We're gonna be here a while. It's embarrassing, but you can't possibly hold it forever. Your bladder will burst. Just swallow your pride and go.”

Hondomachi gave one final faint squeal as she visibly tried to hold back. Then … the tension left her, bowing her head with shame. “This is disgusting. I feel like … no—I _have_ lost my dignity.”

He leaned over and touched his shoulder carefully to her's, as that was her injured arm. “Don't sweat it. You lived through it. It's not like you had any great options.”

In the silence, dripping came through the grating. Well, that could prove to be an unpleasant surprise for someone walking below. Especially now that last rays of sunlight licked against the rafters. A colder wind began to grow, drafting through the rusted holes behind them. He regretted not pulling the top half of his jumpsuit on before they'd cuffed him. In his perpetual climate controlled environment with no access to windows, no one had told him to the rest of the world it was autumn. But it was too late now.

Within an hour of nightfall a rattling began to build with greater urgency. Narihisago's breath left behind puffs of condensation as he glanced to his side. Body shivering hard enough to vibrate the links of her chain, Hondomachi's teeth chattered. She had drawn her knees up as tight to her body as she could get them. He could only manage that with one, not daring to shift his left leg. The cold was good for one thing, he had a distinct feeling the swelling would be a lot worse without it.

“Hey.” He waited for her to open her eyes and glance up to him in what little light filtered from below. “You cold?”

She answered with a jittery nod.

“Scoot over if you want. We can share what little body heat we have.”

To his surprise, she shuffled closer, tucking her injured arm back so she could huddle tighter to him. Her head rested naturally against the front of his shoulder. A perfect height for him to rest his head on, cheek to her blood crusted hair. Her quaking diminished.

“You aren't even shivering. Aren't you cold?”

“Yeah … but it's yet another thing I've gotten used to.”

“Kura's always nice and warm.”

“Kura yes. Fuchu, no.” He couldn't see her face, but he felt her shifting her weight. The name of the prison was not unknown, especially to someone in law enforcement. “I spent two years huddled on the floor of an empty cell without heat or air conditioning … ” his voice caught in his throat, “ … I grew accustomed to a lot of humiliation in those days. You could say it's the main reason I don't mention things that bother me. No one listens, no one cares.”

“I'm sorry, Narihisago.”

“It wasn't your fault … I'm the one who pulled that damned trigger.” The admission stung, but it was still the truth. “I'd thought I had nothing left to lose.”

“Do you regret it?”

That question surprised him. He couldn't answer immediately. “The result … no. He deserved what he got, though I do wish it had lasted longer for him. But … I … ” it was hard to put it into words, his life had already ceased to have much meaning by the time he stared down that gun sight, “ … it isn't so much what it did to me … ” faces appeared to him in the darkness, people who had known him as respectable … had. It took a few breaths before he could go on, “It's the ripples of what my action brought upon others.”

Momoki's disappointed expression haunted him even when he closed his eyes.

“To them—I am nothing but a hypocrite and a traitor.”

She huddled in tighter to him, her shivering lessening as the scant heat built. At least his side would be warm. “That's not fair. With what happened … I mean, you were just trying to stop a killer, and it wasn't you—you were influenced.”

He snorted a laugh. “Not that any of it matters. I don't exist anymore anyway.

“If that's the case what I am leaning against right now?”

Exhaling though his nose, he would have shrugged but it was impossible with her leaning into him. “Point.”

She didn't say much else as her breathing slowed into a sleepy rhythm. The steady cycle stole his focus, intruding on him and gradually dragging him down into a shallow sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

_That's odd … why is my mattress moving?_ Hondomachi realized belatedly that she was partially sitting up, leaning against something soft. Her left side was warm while the right had a chill. She opened her eyes, in the scant light her breath appeared. 

This was **not** her bedroom. Inhaling the air it smelled wrong, filthy. Mildew and mold, a building neglected for some time. Not just that, but … she sniffed again. The tang of stale urine—phew and … another person?

The object she was leaning against jostled her head. There was something pressing down, rubbing her hair. Breathing, harsh gasps and muttering, mere snatches of words, but the tone was panicked.

“ … don't … please! … begging you … ”

Trapped beneath what she figured was a chin, Hondomachi's drowsy brain recalled what was happening the moment she tried to move her hands and couldn't. It was the middle of the night, she'd nestled up against Narihisago for warmth. Things had been been quiet—until now.

Carefully she extracted her head from beneath him, peering up into his flinching face. His eyes were closed, and a cold sweat glistened on his brow in the available light. Every breath was a hard punch, the corners of his closed eyes wrinkled from the tension. “ … stop! … I can't … can't … ”

_Is he having a nightmare?_ “Narihisago?” she called out softly, nudging his elbow with her shoulder. 

He didn't seem to notice as his fretting spread to his limbs. “ … reach you! … ”

Pushing firmer, she watched his head loll to the side. “Narihisago, wake up!”

Surging forward, he gasped, eyes wide open. Each breath crystallized in the air. She'd seen him do that before, coming out of a dive. “Hey, you ok?”

Searching the faint outlines of the room for a few breaths he shook his head as if to clear it. “Yeah … I'm awake now. Shit!”

“What was it?”

Silence stretched out.

“Narihisago, you were crying out in your sleep. What was it?”

“Nothing.” He snapped. “Just a stupid dream.”

“That wasn't nothing. You sounded really scared … ”

A sharp edge infected his voice. “Mind your own business!”

Uncomfortably, she watched him struggling to calm his breathing. The frantic energy taking a while to dissipate. “There's no need to get so tetchy. Everybody gets nightmares. They're pretty common.”

In the scant light he turned and glared at her.

This close it was hard to lean away, but she managed it, narrowing her eyes. “Geesh, next time I won't wake you up.”

“Don't do me any favors.”

“Why are you such a grump?”

He growled. The man actually growled at her!

She had no answer to that as they sat in the dark. A horn echoed long and low. Hondomachi sat up a little straighter. “Wait … what was that?” A minute later it sounded again. She nudged him, hardly able to keep her voice down. “Did you hear that? That sounded like a ship's horn!”

Narihisago cocked his head, listening. After another minute the horn sounded again, growing closer. “That's a docking blast. That means we're by the shipping yards.”

“We know where we are!” She bobbed up and down. “This is great!”

“Great.” He studied her grimly. “What precisely are we supposed to do with that information?”

“Get a message to the Kura.”

Cocking an eyebrow he kept staring until the logic hit her, bowing her head. His deadpan words struck like a blow, “Yeah. Something else you get used to when you can't reach the rest of the world.”

“How disappointing.”

He sighed. “You best get used to disappointment yourself. You'll find a lot of it working as a detective.”

“Oooooh!” She kicked at the air in front of her. “I really thought we had a breakthrough.”

“Didn't say that wasn't a breakthrough. Just that getting word out is going to be tricky as hell.”

Gruffly she snapped. “But you didn't say that.”

“Heh, well I tend to do that sometimes. Think that I have said something.” He shook his head. “Anyway, the point is we'll be lucky if we get a chance, that only means we have to be ready to take advantage of it when it comes.”

_**~ID~** _

“Please! Everyone, listen up!” After a restless night spent in the office alone, Momoki struggled to cut through the cacophony in the meeting room. The Wellside staff and field analysts gathered, along with the detective acting as a liaison to the First. It was impossible to follow any thread of conversation as they all spoke over one another. He pounded a fist on the table. “I said, shut up!”

Instant silence and stunned expressions greeted him.

“We're approaching the first twenty-four hour mark in this case, which we all know is critical. The information we do have is limited. The last time we had visual was—” The door opened, Kokufu walked in and shut it behind him, his eyes to the floor. “Sir?”

“I have the results from the blood samples recovered from the street and the garage.”

Matsuoka looked up for the first time since the meeting had been assembled, his arms already folded across his chest.

Momoki took a step closer, the whites of his eyes prominent. “And …?”

Not even looking at it, Kokufu held out the tablet so Momoki could see it. “The blood near the wall in the auto garage was Hondomachi's. The samples off the asphalt near the car and beside the tool bench … ” he swallowed, “ … were both Narihisago's.”

Holding his breath for a moment, the bottom of Momoki's stomach dropped out. He had suspected it, especially the blood around the bracelet and bio-chip. But the confirmation was still a blow.

“I knew it!” Matsuoka bellowed. “That bastard ran for it!”

Momoki snapped out if it. “We can't be certain of that!”

“The evidence points to it.”

“Not all of it. How do you explain those wells? Neither Narihisago nor Hondomachi were the cognition particle source. Those belonged to someone else.”

Matsuoka huffed a breath, lifting his chin. “How can you be certain?”

“Anaido's dives confirmed that.”

“You're trusting the word of _another_ serial killer? Momoki—what is wrong with you!”

His blood began to boil. The crew all stood back as they closed the distance within finger stabbing range. “Nothing. I'm follow the evidence we have.”

“You're defending him again. You always defended him!” He clearly wasn't talking about Fukuda.

“And **you** never gave him a chance!” Momoki's pointer finger jabbed him in the center of the chest.

“He was always breaking the rules, right from the start!”

“Not now, Matsuoka. This isn't First Division anymore.”

His brow furrowed. “This is becoming worse. You're blinded by nostalgia. He isn't reliable, he never was to begin with.”

Momoki glared back, folding his arms. “None of that matters right now.”

“What do you mean? It most certainly does. You never wanted to see the truth about him. You and Chief Tominaga constantly overlooked it to your convenience, because it got results and you kept your partner. At what cost?”

“You're honestly not harping on the Stitcher case.”

His brow furrowed deep enough to shadow his eyes. “No. I'm not. The case I am thinking about was much worse. The way he would just dash off and do his thing put other lives in danger. To the point where it cost lives!”

_No … not the Pipe-Bomber!_ “That was an exception!”

Matsuoka's wry grin said it all, _you know the one I'm referring to._ “You ask me, it was that scumbag's mantra. Why you are so loyal to him is a mystery to me. How many times did he leave you to scramble after him? How many times! Stop and think about it. More often than not he left you in the dark as he dashed off—just like on **that** day when he should have waited.”

_This wasn't the Challenger … it was well before. Was there really a pattern that I missed?_

“Are you listening to me, Momoki? Answer me—how many people lost their lives that day because he didn't wait?”

He spread his hands. “There was an explanation!”

“One that you gave to your father to get Narihisago's ass out of the fire.”

“No! Narihisago **was** disciplined.”

He renewed his glare. “How? The way I remember it he was on another case the next damn day!”

“His skills were needed!”

“You still haven't answered the question. How many people died because he dashed ahead and broke that door down without the bomb squad! Answer me!”

Momoki's eyes slowly sunk to the floor. “Four.”

“Four. Four innocent victims that could have been saved if he had waited for backup. But no, not impulsive Narihisago. He just knew he was right and refused to wait just so he could prove it!” Matsuoka pounded his fist into a palm. “Time and time again he did it. Eyes on the clues and not where he was headed. Luck the only thing that saved his ass from getting ground. It's in his nature. He is reckless, impulsive, and sick in the head. Face the facts, Momoki. Over the years you enabled him, your negligence led to his ruin! This time we may have to finally put him down.”

He pushed him backward, “Who's the bastard with intent to kill now!”

Kokufu stepped between them, pushing them apart. “Enough. Both of you, this isn't helping. We have to focus on what we know. Detective Yokota, any updates from the First?”

Clearing his throat, Yokota smirked as he glanced at Momoki and Matsuoka before shaking his head. “Officers have been canvasing the area and haven't picked up anything like your description. The fact is, I highly doubt they would get too far and not be spotted without some kind of assistance.”

Wakashika put his fist to his chin. “Right, and we know at least someone was involved to switch the cameras. Even if it was Narihisago behind this, the video feed is not something he would have access to. The replacement footage was from the afternoon before, when he was still in custody and unaware he would be off Kura grounds. To the best of my knowledge only those involved knew of those plans ahead of time. Right sir?”

Kokufu confirmed that with a nod.

Habutae held up his tablet. “If Fukuda's interpretation checks out, and I'll be honest, there is logic to what he told Momoki last night, then we are looking at at least two individuals.”

Getting his stride again, Momoki turned toward his crew. “Right. We'll be sending Fukuda back into them again today for a more thorough search.”

Shiratake cocked his head. “What's made him so cooperative all the sudden?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you. But let's take advantage of this while we have it. We'll be at the Wellside for much of the day, as long as Fukuda can handle it.”

“Do you think we'll run into what we did yesterday?” Wakashika shook his head. “Seems like he's not a durable as Narihisago was.”

“Right, we'll need to be more mindful of his stamina. Togo, I need you to help keep that in check. Remind me not to overdo it. While we're searching the wells for more possible leads, what will the field analysts be doing?”

Matsuoka turned with a grunt. “Our jobs.” He stalked out of the room.

Togo's hand pressed on Momoki's shoulder. “We'll find Hondomachi and Narihisago and bring him back, alive.”

He squeezed a fist at his side. “That's all I want to do right now.”

_**~ID~** _

Rays of weak light crept through the openings, more defuse. The day was overcast, or so Narihisago assumed. At the very least their breaths weren't crystallizing anymore. Since Hondomachi's keen ears had picked up the ship horn last night, he'd heard several more ships docking and departing. The distance was fair. Suggesting they weren't directly at the port itself but somewhere close by the shoreline. That explained the damp breeze.

Hondomachi stirred, raising her head from resting against the front of his shoulder. She grumbled as she shifted. “So stiff.”

“It's the cold. Tends to have that effect. Can you stand?”

In an awkward shuffle, she shifted her legs beneath her and managed to get to her feet without the use of her hands.

“Walk it off, see how far you can get.”

Taking easy steps, she hauled the chain behind her reaching what appeared to be roughly three meters away from the wall before the tension stopped her. She turned and cocked her head. “Can you get up?”

Glancing at his discolored and swollen foot he locked eyes with her. “What do you think?”

“Not worth trying, huh.” She took a few paces.

_That's not nearly far enough to do us any good. My own is probably close to the same length, but it's not even halfway to the stairs. The best I can tell that's the only way down. We must be far enough away not to be overheard by anyone curious, after all, we're not gagged. But I'll bet if we started making a ruckus we would be. How can I play any of this to our advantage?_

Footsteps echoed from below. “You hear that? I better go check upstairs.”

“Nah, stay put. I'll do it. Wanna try something.”

Narihisago gestured with his head for her to settle back down. Quick as ever, she sat beside him, watching with a stoic expression.

Tsuyoshi wandered up the stairs, hands in his pockets. “Oh, so you're awake. Good. I wanted to have a little word in private.” On his way by Izanagi, he shoved the base of the chair with his foot, putting it in motion nearly toppling it. The poor man attached to it struggled anew, tears streaming down. The thug came to a halt, looming over Narihisago from a distance. “Pretty rough night up here, huh.”

He didn't reply, playing the silent card. Always the best way to draw more out of a talker.

“Man, if I were you I would hate to go through that over and over. But you know, there's an easy solution.” He pointed to Izanagi. “Work your magic on that walking corpse over there and everything changes for you.”

_Even if I wanted to, that's impossible. Let's be real, how is the guy supposed to kill himself trussed up like that?_

“Think about it,” he went on, “instead of being locked up, you'd be free. You can have a new life for yourself. A fresh start. The boss would pay well for your services. And trust me, he's got the means. You want a new name? A house? A sick car? Whatever you want. All it takes is the occasional favor.”

Narihisago snuffed a breath. “If you knew me you would never be suggesting setting me free.”

“What … you too good for this?” He smirked.

“Quite the opposite.”

That stiffened him. “Haha. Real funny. Like you're some bad ass.”

“There is a reason I was locked up. Generally it's wise to separate psychopaths from the rest of the world.” Narihisago studied the thug's gaze, instead of intimidated by the words he almost seemed amused.

“A punk like you? You know, I don't believe for a second that you can do it.”

He half closed his eyes. “Goading me like that won't help your cause. I'm not that easy to manipulate.”

In a smooth motion he whipped out a gun, closed the distance, and rammed it against Narihisago's head. The muzzle trembled with the tension. “Oh yeah? Well, if you don't do it, it'll be you with a bullet in the brain. How's that for manipulation?”

He couldn't see Hondomachi but he heard her order, “Get off of him!”

Tsuyoshi barely spared her a glance. “Not talking to you. The boss'll deal with you later.” He pressed the gun hard enough to shift his head. “I want an answer, smart ass.”

A low chuckle escaped him, startling the thug. Slowly Narihisago looked up with an unsettling grin. “The fact that you would even think that this would move me one iota from my stance is proof you guys don't know shit about me. A shot to the head is  _hardly_ the worst way to die. I can think of at least two dozen worse fates just off the top of my head.”

The pressure of the muzzle lessened until it pulled back altogether. “You're just punking me.”

“Am I, though?” He side-eyed him, curiosity brimming in the thug's expression. “Generally a pointblank gun shot to the head, unless the victim is unlucky, means a quick death. This close and where you had it pointed, I'd be a corpse in point five seconds. Too quick for my brain to even register that it happened. Not the best threat in this case. I mean, I can hardly pull it off if I'm dead.”

His eyes widened as he glanced between the gun and Narihisago. “You … you said dozens of other ways to die … ”

“Oh yeah.” He shrugged casually. “The unpleasant ones are the kind that linger rather than the flash in the pan brutal approach. Things like drowned in quick sand, mauled by a leopard, oh yeah, and burnt to death in a back draft. All of those leave plenty of time to feel what's happening.”

“Whoa, dude, that's … brutal. I think I like your style, man.” Tsuyoshi tucked his gun away. “What kind of work _did_ you do to learn all that?”

“You have no idea.”


	8. Chapter 8

Flanked by all four of his men, Konya stood in the center of the floor, hands crossed in front of him, casting a decidedly annoyed glare toward Izanagi. “Look who is still breathing and requiring me to come out to this dump once again.”

Izanagi wilted.

Wordlessly Narihisago watched as the glare turned from the victim to him. He kept his own stare level. _Don't do anything stupid. Keep it in check. You can't reach him. Patience._

He gave a nod to Ryota and Kenta. The two stepped up, a cup in each of their hands. His throat burned for a drink. They held the cups of water as he and Hondomachi greedily sucked down the vague relief. It was only a few mouthfuls, but better than nothing. His empty stomach growled, a reminder that he hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday. Something told him they were only getting water to extend their suffering.

Kenta took a third cup, tugged down Izanagi's gag and held it to his grateful lips. The moment he was finished he turned to Konya and bleated, “Please! Forgive me! It wasn't my fau—ack!” The gag rammed back in his mouth put an end to that.

Tapping his finger, the rings struck one another as Konya slipped his gaze to Narihisago. “Did I not give you an order?”

Narihisago rolled his eyes. _Sure, but a bound victim can't exactly commit suicide, genius. What did this rat tell them about me? Clearly they were clueless._

He sighed addressing his men, “What am I going to do about this? This man is supposed to clear a debt and I certainly am not finding any value in my new possession.”

“What about the skirt?” Orochi pointed.

Konya cast a glance her way. “What about her? The price she would fetch would be insufficient compensation.”

“Hey!” Hondomachi snarled, shifting back to her feet. “What's with the sexism, pal?”

Not daring to turn his head to face her, Narihisago watched from the corner of his eye, forcing himself to remember to breathe.

Tsuyoshi and Orochi both moved to intercept putting a wall-of-thug between her and the boss. Safe behind them, Konya rolled his eyes as he remarked flatly, “Women are only good for a few things. Running their mouths is not one of those. They are frail and weak.”

Her teeth squealed. “Frail! Weak!”

 _Uh oh, he has no idea what he's dealing with. This isn't going to end well._ Carefully, he shifted his weight ever so slightly away from her in anticipation. Guys like these were not going to get a clue. Not in time anyway.

She leaned forward, stamping a foot. “The man who hides behind such phrases is merely compensating for something he is severely lacking in.”

Chuckling, Narihisago tucked his chin trying to suppress it.

Konya shifted his gaze to Narihisago. “You better control that shrew.”

He glanced up. “Who? Hondomachi? Yeah, that's not gonna happen. Are you blind or just that unobservant? I have no authority over her. She's the ranked officer. I'm just a prisoner.”

Tsuyoshi burst into laughter, pointing. “You hear that? A man bossed around by a half pint little girl! Unbelievable!”

“Half pint! Oooooo!”

It was subtle, but Narihisago noted the shift of her weight, it was almost like watching Momoki practice his martial arts. Behind his back he lifted a pointer finger, even though it couldn't be seen—not that it would do any good even if it could. These thugs were about to get schooled.

Even with her hands cuffed behind her back, Hondomachi closed the distance in two strides and delivered a savage kick to Tsuyoshi's groin. Her foot momentarily disappeared as it impacted.

“Get your mind out of the dark ages, you fuckin' prick!” She stood fuming.

In slow motion, Tsuyoshi clutched his pants and toppled forward into a heap, emitting a high pitched squeal in the process.

Konya's eyebrow twitched as the other three took a step back, making certain they were out of range they could barely conceal their concern for their own safety.

“Care to insult her again?” Narihisago remarked. “Go ahead. That was kinda fun to watch. I'd like to see what she targets next.” _When she's in the suit its easy to forget that she's the pilot of a shark-rangling spitfire from the well dives. But she is. She damn well is! Only an idiot messes with her._

Snapping his fingers, Konya headed for the stairs with his nose in the air. Ryota and Kenya picked Tsuyoshi up off the floor and helped him stagger behind. Hastening to Konya's side, Orochi leaned close to him as he spoke, “I expect results by the time I return. Make it happen.”

“Yes sir.” Orochi paused on the stairs enough to cuff Tsuyoshi's ear. “You moron!”

Hondomachi stood in a wide attack stance until well after they vanished. “Why are men such assholes!”

Narihisago replied quietly, “The jury's still out on that one.” He flicked a glance toward the stairwell.

Belatedly she looked down, in surprise. “Oh, I didn't mean you.”

He shrugged as she sat down in a huff.

“It just … just makes me so angry! They don't even know me! Women can be just as capable as men.” Her voice dropped to a low grumble, “No matter what Mother said.”

That brought him up short. Narihisago studied her hard expression for a moment, it told an epic story. “Your mother didn't want you to become a detective, did she.”

Her eyes narrowed, she wouldn't look his way.

“Let me guess, you were supposed to be married by now, raising little bundles of joy.”

When she ground her teeth he knew he had it. “How did you know I wasn't married?”

He glanced behind her. “That was an actual guess. But no ring, not even a hint of one being worn. Not that it matters. You're hardly the only single person in the world.”

“You wouldn't think that to hear my mother. I'm worthless because I didn't settle down. What's wrong with being single? Doesn't matter that I breezed through school and blazed my way through my chosen career path. I knew what I wanted to do before I was ten, and I never wavered!” She verbally assaulted every word.

“Well, she's being decidedly shortsighted. There are plenty who would appreciate your skills.”

“Who?”

He grinned at her. “The families of the victims, for one.”

At that her temper began to quell a bit. She drew her knees up to her chest, resting her forehead against them.

“You know, there is someone who can empathize with you about the frustration of parental expectations.”

She didn't lift her head as she eyed him.

“Have a talk with Momoki.”

“What would he know about this?”

“Quite a lot actually. Trust me. Ask him, though it might take more than once to get him to open up about it. You have no idea the lengths I had to go to in the first place to get him talking about it.”

“Tch, he fought with his mom?”

Narihisago shook his head. “Nope, more like his dad … the police commissioner.”

She inhaled deeply. “He didn't want his son to become an officer?”

“Oh no, that part he wanted, more than anything. It was Momoki's lack of a relationship status that was the problem.”

“Huh … who would have thought. Maybe I will have to when we get back.” She stared out at nothing as the wind whistled through the siding. “Do you think the Kura knows we're missing yet?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. I didn't get the impression this was supposed to be an overnight. I'd bet they're looking for us.”

Hondomachi snapped a nod. “Good. When they find us, I want to feed those assholes their own teeth before they are dragged off to jail!”

Narihisago mock-flinched. “Wow, and they talk about my urges.”

“You telling me they don't deserve it?” She shot him a stern glare.

“Right now I wouldn't dream of suggesting otherwise.” … _because I value my shins. And still, she's showing remarkable grit in the face of all this. Most of the detectives I knew would have been sobbing and begging nonstop in this situation._

She rammed her chin back against her up-drawn knees, expression gradually softening. “Narihisago?”

“Hmm?”

Her voice had lost its edge, not quite timid but hesitant. “After Hayaseura mind-fucked you … how did you deal with the anger? I just … sometimes I have a harder time now … you know … after the hole.”

He heaved a sigh. “Deal with it? To be honest, I really haven't been able to.”

“Oh.” Her eyes half-closed.

“That's the primary reason I can't ever be released.”

She stiffened, head raising to meet his eyes, a slight tremble of the irises.

“Don't worry.” He forced a weary grin. “Fortunately, you're not me, Hondomachi.”

_**~ID~** _

The streetlamps illuminated the graffiti on the back alley brick walls Anaido's footsteps echoed off of. Not having amnesia came in handy in evading the initial onslaught. In a mad dash he'd left the welt covered Kaeru, useless as she was to him, to her pointless fate. Having tried several other avenues before only to be beaten to death, he opted for what appeared to be the path less traveled, evidenced through the scattered debris and the yellow tape warning POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS!

His evasive dash hadn't lasted long before he was winded, but it was enough to create distance in this dark world before dying again. Hands in his pockets, he now roamed the rough alleys fighting the urge to peer up at the street signs.

_Why do they gotta use so many numbers? Addresses, streets, phone numbers, dates, times! Huh, the ambient noise sure is interesting in this guy's mind. Let's see we have rattling cans blowing down the street, I'm guessing those are gun shots and not car backfires …_

There was a scream, cut off at the end.

_Yeah, that would be a shooting. Hrm, nice neighborhood, great place to raise a family._

He slowed his steps as the layers and layers of graffiti grabbed his attention and didn't let it go.

“What's this?” He cocked his head, taking a step back and tucking his chin in a hand. There was a pattern, not numbers, which was probably why he'd missed this in the last four dives, that is if it had been beneath in the other alleys.

“Hey guys, check this out.” _Why am I calling out? They're nosy fuckers, always watching!_ “The newer graffiti is symbolic in more ways than one, nasty dangerous creatures and threatening words. This guy became a serious power tripper. But—look here, in the gaps between. This is something else. Same hand, same bad spelling, but layered so deep it has to be early.”

And it was the same over and over and over. What Anaido saw was the missing letters to complete the phrase: **Daddy you're hurting me!**

Anaido looked up to the sky. “Well well well, someone had a painful childhood. How much you want to bet that junior learned first hand how to be a sadistic asshole?”

A moment later gravity reversed, sucking him up into the darkness.

He opened his eyes in blue light of the cockpit, breathing a touch heavy as he stared at the ceiling. To his surprise the Wellside crew was in the midst of a spirited discussion, he attempted to follow but there were too many threads to grab any of them.

“Ok … did I do something wrong?”

Momoki shouted them into silence. _“No, we think you did something right. Here's another unusual part about you, Fukuda. When Narihisago is in a dive we get thought threads from him.”_

“Uhh, wait … you can read the dude's mind?”

“ _Sakaido's, yes, more or less. But for some reason that doesn't happen with you.”_

He laughed, his finger brushing the scarred flesh near his hole. “Oh really. That's interesting.”

“ _That conclusion you just reached, that the well owner had a painful childhood? What about the graffiti tipped you off?”_

Leaning forward he closed his eyes. Recalling the image. There was no doubt the writing had been buried so no single entry could be viewed in its entirety. “You guys got some powerful computers up there. Unbury the message, reconstruct it.”

“ _Give me a moment, Director … working on it … heh, well it's a mess, but it says … ”_

“' **Daddy you're hurting me.** ' written in the hand of small child. Something tells me that no one listened when he called for help.”

Momoki replied. _“What tells you that?”_

Templing his fingers he stared at the ceiling with a sad smile. “The voice of experience.”

_**~ID~** _

The shafts of daylight stretched from the far side of the building, signifying early evening. Narihisago opened his eyes at the sound of heavy footsteps up the stairs. They were about to have company again. The sound of liquid sloshing around quirked his eyebrow. That was far more than a drink.

Kenta followed Tsuyoshi and Orochi, a large bucket in his hands reeking of seawater which he plopped down on Narihisago's side of the upper floor, roughly where he estimated the chain would reach. The sinister smiles on their faces were not particularly comforting. Although he did note Tsuyoshi walking a bit wide-legged, as well as eyeing Hondomachi with disdain. Orochi pushed Izanagi's chair a few feet from the bucket. He turned to Narihisago, holding out a hand toward the unfortunate man. “You gonna show us what you can do?”

He closed his eyes, having a vague idea of what as coming. As much as he hated to sign his own fate, he shook his head.

He didn't even get a chance to raise his head before a meaty hand clamped on the back of his neck, dragging him across the floor toward the bucket, the heavy chain clanking behind him. Orochi took over for Kenta, ramming Narihisago onto his knees, pushing his head down until his nose kissed the frigid saltwater. He knew damn well what was coming. “One last chance.”

 _What a shitty way to prove my suspicion of our location right. So, this is where we start. Alright, could be worse._ Narihisago took several deep breaths, anticipating. There was no stopping it. Bound as he was he had no chance of countering.

When his silence outlasted Orochi's patience, he plunged Narihisago's head shoulder deep into the water, holding him there in a surprisingly iron grip.

The seawater stung like needles against his skin, cold from the bay. There was a small silver-lining, the icy embrace numbed his aching head so he no longer felt that. Of course, the extreme cold brought another problem! He nearly opened his mouth in a cry at the shock, only mastering himself by a small margin. He needed the air in his lungs for as long as he could manage. This he remembered from a relatable well that involved a shipwreck in polar waters. Kaeru's body had been in the middle of the ship requiring a lengthy underwater swim beneath the frigid waters to gather clues, of course without the aid of scuba gear. Here it wasn't the distance he traveled that determined when he could inhale again. It was the fickle mercy of a hardened thug. Arms behind his back left him with little he could do to resist. Orochi was indeed stronger than he looked.

The pressure in Narihisago's chest slowly built into an increasing alarm. Instinct drove him to resist the pressure keeping him trapped, trying to pull his head from the grasp as air bubbles escaped. The pressure lasted a bit longer until he nearly swallowed water in the desperate grab to fill the vacuum.

Orochi yanked him backward sending a shower of water into the air.

Gasping, Narihisago tried to force his eyes open, but the saltwater stung, forcing them closed as he tried to fill his lungs with air again. Rivulets dripped beneath his shirt, cold relentless fingers down his spine.

The hand forced his head in the direction of the victim, close enough that Narihisago could feel the man's feverish heat penetrating the cold. “Izanagi dies and you get to live. All you gotta do is talk. It's that simple.”

Choking on the air, Narihisago shook his head as much as he could with his scalp being held.

“Your answer?”

“ … I … refuse … ”

He had just enough time to catch a breath before his face slapped the water again. The icy needles punched into bare flesh. Bubbles traced his numbing skin.

 _You've dealt with stuff worse than this in the wells. Stay calm. Drowning isn't that bad …_ suddenly it struck him _… Except … This isn't a well!_

This time it was harder to hold back the urge to thrash. The grip was strong, and Orochi was wily enough not to afford him a suckerpunch … otherwise known as a kick with his good leg. Once more the pressure built. His mouth opened, this time getting a lungful of water.

Yanked out of the grip of the water, he coughed up the ice cold liquid. Orochi released him, letting him fall forward onto one shoulder as he wretched and fought for air.

The sound of a chain dragged across the grating stopped short. Hondomachi's voice not far from him, “Stop! Leave him alone!”

Tsuyoshi snorted. “What's the matter, Bitch? You worried he doesn't know how to swim in a bucket?”

Once more Narihisago tried to force his eyes open, but the burning shut them instantaneously.

Hondomachi's shout was cut short by a sound of a solid thump and air being expelled.

“Take a seat and shut up!”

Barely catching his breath, Narihisago was mercilessly lifted again by the back of his neck.

Orochi held him above the water, droplets plunking in. “How about now? Or do you want to take another dip?”

For a brief moment he considered going through with it. But it didn't matter, even if he truly wanted to, “ … Can't … ”

“Too bad, asshole.” Mercilessly, Orochi forced his head back into the water.

This time there was no delay, instantly Narihisago struggled feebly in his grasp. He he'd barely gotten a mouthful, not even close to a lungful of air. The more he fought to turn his head, the tighter the fingers dug into his numbing muscles. Desperate, he bucked backward as the bubbles escaped in a muted scream into the water. This time that didn't end the torment. He remained trapped below the surface, water invading his airway.

He didn't remember how he had landed on the floor on his side. He didn't remember losing consciousness. Instantly he coughed out a mouthful of seawater, spitting and gasping in a race to clear his lungs so he could breathe again. This time Orochi left him lying there, circling him in a slow methodical gait until at last Narihisago managed to crack open his eyes.

“One. More. Time.” He thrust a finger toward the wide-eyed Izanagi.

Shivering from the cold, Narihisago could only gasp and blink slowly. None of this mattered. He couldn't do it. Certainly he could buy time if he mentioned that they needed to remove Izanagi's gag and let them talk for a while. But there was a chance something might come up and actually trigger it. A chance that Izanagi might take his own life. Narihisago wouldn't risk that.

As much as he could, knowing this would only bring more misery, he turned his head away, coughing. Now he could see Hondomachi on the floor hunched over, wincing.

“No?” Orochi barked, “Alright, smart ass. This is on you.”

This time Kenta grabbed the back of his neck and dragged him toward the wall, dropping him against it in a sodden heap beside Hondomachi.

That surprised Narihisago. He'd expected another pathetic round against drowning as he was still hacking up seawater from his lungs.

A shadow grew with heavy steps, he looked up in time to see Kenta dump the entire bucket over Hondomachi soaking her to the bone as she shrieked from the shock of the water's temperature. Her chest heaved with each breath. Roughly a third of it spattered over him in the process, renewing the bone-deep chill.

Orochi leaned in close with a sly smile. “Sun goes down in an hour. Have a pleasant night.”

“Isn't it going to get cold tonight?” Kenta asked.

“Oh yeah, but not enough to kill 'em. Besides, even if it did, this guy's looking like a washout and that ain't on us. Knew that crazy-ass story was too good to be true. A guy who can kill with words, puh! Wonder what the boss'll do to that hotshot prick when his payment gets rejected leaving his debt still due. That sucker is out of time. Can't wait till we get to collect. Hehehe.” They turned and left, carting the empty bucket with them, discussing tonight's card game.

Already Narihisago's teeth chattered. There was no possibility of stopping it. He'd been left halfway slumped against the wall. Struggling to get enough pressure with his right foot against the grating, he forced himself closer to upright. That was all the strength he had left.

“So … c-c-cold … ” Hondomachi gasped leaning into his side, her teeth nearly breaking they were chattering so hard.

Still fighting for breath, Narihisago watched the droplets trembling at the ends of his hair. “Did … did Tsuyoshi hit you?”

She nodded shakily.

“That's what … I thought … I saw.” For the moment anything more was stolen by his shuddering from the cold fingers of water creeping down his spine.

“Sadists! D-don't do … it … the thing. T-that's an o-order!” She hissed. “S-shit! We're gonna … f-freeze!”

The sun's rays reached horizontal from the opposite end of the building beginning to blink out, the promised temperature drop approaching in the fading light. A rumble of thunder rattled the sheet metal, the wind gusted in through the gap behind them. He glanced up to the rusted holes pockmarking the ceiling, revealing the broiling storm clouds building overhead. He'd thought last night was hard … at least they'd been dry.

His chin flopped to his sodden shirt. “Shit.”

Thick drops pelted the metal siding in the sudden downpour, creating a near deafening cadence. Through the ceiling, streams of water poured down.

Hondomachi's teeth chattered as the lightning lit up her features for a moment. “Na-Nar-ihi-sa-go … fr-fr-fr-freezing!”

Before he knew it she huddled closer than ever to him. Not that it meant anything. He was the only source of body heat available in the dark gale assaulting the building. It was the nature of things smaller bodies lost heat at a faster rate than larger masses. Clearly fighting for more warmth, beside him didn't seem to be enough, Hondomachi inched her way until to his surprise she had crawled into his lap in as tight a ball as she could manage, her clanking chain dangled off his right hip.

For a few heartbeats he was paralyzed, the well dives being his closest recent experience to this when Sakaido had managed to wrest a victim from the jaws of a well death and race them off to safety. But here there was no rescue, here there was no race to anywhere. This … this was real, it was actually happening. He rested his head on hers, whispering, “Thank you.”

“For sharing the warmth?”

“For trusting me enough to.”


	9. Chapter 9

All night the wind and rain rattled the siding. Lightning pierced the darkness. Thunder shook the entire building. Narihisago and Hondomachi spent it in abject misery as she huddled against his chest, their breaths captured beneath their bowed heads offering a shred more heat. But their sodden clothing caught the chill wind. Every time they started to nod off, a nearby thunderclap would startle them awake. Keeping his dread to himself, Narihisago silently fretted about being chained to a metal support beam in a metal paneled building with the close by lightning strikes. Once the storm abated, the hours filled with something else. In a chorus both of their bellies relentlessly growled. After last night they had burned through precious reserves. He assumed that had been the idea.

In the morning light, when she lifted her head Hondomachi's eyes had dark bags beneath them making the blackened one more pronounced. She sniffled, her tangled hair catching on his shoulder as she moved. Her stomach complained loud enough that she curled in tighter. But she didn't utter a single word. Not one.

Narihisago's stomach answered just as loud in a keening cry. He didn't move, he kept staring out at the droplets of collected rainwater falling one after the other in the streaming morning light. He could only imagine what a wreck he looked like now. If it was as bad as he felt he wasn't fit to be viewed by the public. At least in the slightly warming air, and the rays of sunlight peering through the gaps they weren't shivering anymore. A small blessing … something to cling to.

She murmured, “We're both still breathing … so, I guess we didn't freeze.”

“When I told Momoki that I kinda missed the outside world this wasn't what I had in mind.”

Looking down she swallowed. “Don't tell anyone about this … how we … ”

“What? Kept each other from hypothermia?” He nudged her with his scruffy chin, which by now the typical stubble must have grown quite a bit. “Who could I possibly tell?”

Carefully, Hondomachi shuffled backward, working her way off his lap and back down onto the grating. “I dunno … ”

The more he thought about it, the more her awkwardness made sense—after all, he figured he was easily old enough to be her father.

She sniffled, drawing her knees up to her chest again. She was only half awake. “I just … ”

“Deep breath. We're gonna make it through this.” He didn't believe it. When his voice cracked, he hid it with a forced cough. “Think of what we're used to doing. We've faced some pretty tough situations, just in the wells alone. Sandstorms in an endless desert, sharks swimming in blood. Keep your head. We'll find a way.”

She turned a somber smile on him, the scarred hole visible beneath her scraggly hair. “You don't have to lie.”

He bowed his head a bit deeper. Of course she'd seen right through him.

At length she started to talk idly, about nothing at all. A reflex, a simple distraction. He knew she wasn't talking to him. Much like when the other prisoners in his cell block succumbed to the same device, he tuned her out, polite chit chat not being his strong point. The main reason he'd been largely silent down there for so long.

“Narihisago?”

His name pulled him out of his lack of thoughts. But he didn't make a sound.

Softly, but with intent, she went on, “I don't even know how to put this, I've never been able to. You know when I mentioned my mother?” She shuffled her knees tighter to her chest. “This is going to sound so stupid … but I imagine that much of my life feels like prison.”

He huffed a breath through his nose.

In a rush she blurted, “I don't mean it as an insult! Really. Sometimes people make ridiculous comparisons. Maybe I just did, I'm so sorry!”

“It's ok, I didn't take offense. You just confirmed an assumption is all.” He glanced at her as she tucked into herself. “You wanna hear the rest of it?”

“You've … you've profiled me?” She squirmed a bit, but settled into a firm stare with one normal and one bruised eye.

Taking that as a yes, he laid his head back against the metal. “There had to be some explanation for your energetic outbursts. They seem like an ingrained subconscious scream for attention.” She wilted a bit. “Hold on, I'm not done yet. That's merely embedded from a lifetime of being overlooked, which was not for you lack of trying. Someone important, or possibly someones, never noticed how hard you were scrapping for their attention.”

Hondomachi broke the stare, looking anywhere but toward him.

“What that built in you was an exceptional drive toward your goal into a hardy officer who doesn't pass out when things get grim. Hondomachi, you are truly unprecedented.”

Her voice when she spoke held a lower timber. “Neither of my parents had the time of day for me. The only way I could get their attention was to be loud, then they would tell me to shut up. At least it was attention, though. I wasn't the eldest. I wasn't conforming like my sisters were, fostering crushes on one guy after another. I couldn't be like them. I just wanted to be myself, but it wasn't enough. They were pretty and stylish, they were delicate flowers. The boys were always interested in them. It seemed so silly to me, how they vainly changed themselves to turn the eye—makeup, clothing, behaving different depending on who they were with. They lost themselves in the chase. All I wanted to be—was myself.”

He kept watching her out of the corner of his eye, listening to the barely concealed pain in her voice.

“The only chasing after boys I ever did was in a game of tag. A rare one … ”

“You didn't have many friends.”

It was delayed, but she shook her head. “I didn't. I spent a lot of my time on my own. If I wasn't going to be a demure little twig of a girl … I wasn't … ” She didn't finish that thought aloud. “When I tried to tell my mom what was happening she interrupted me a handful of words in and had me fetch a pin for my sister's date. If even she didn't give a shit … I didn't think anyone would ever notice me. I didn't think anyone in the world cared at all.

“But then one day, something happened. It was during one of my first years of elementary school. Every day walking to and from school was a dreadful experience. The other kids either shoved me or completely ignored me.

“Near a crosswalk a group of my classmates bustled by, tripped me and burst out laughing. I stumbled and skinned my knee on the asphalt. My mom was going to be mad at me, there was blood on the cuff of my sock. I got up and scrambled away, dragging my backpack behind me, I hid in the bushes, sobbing. I didn't know what I would do.

“Something tugged the backpack curiously. A moment later, the bushes parted. I had missed him, he must have been on the other side of the crosswalk. But above me stood an officer. The bright badge shining on his chest, staring at me from under the brim of his cap.” The corners of her eyes twitched. “He reached down, picked me up, and brushed me off. Full focus on me, asked me if I was alright. I couldn't even answer him at first. I just burst into fresh tears. No one ever asked me if I was alright. Not even my teachers. But this perfect stranger used his water bottle to calmly wash the scrape and the offensive stain off my sock and sat with me for a while until I stopped crying. He listened when I told him what had been happening, how if the other kids even noticed me at all … they did nothing but tease me.”

“That was nice of him.” While listening to her Narihisago watched the collected rain from the roof drip down one drop at a time in a shaft of sunlight. More shades of the outside world he had been denied all this time. There was some vague beauty to it in this sad structure.

She gave a short laugh. “When I told him I was worthless, he put a finger to my chin lifting up my face, making me look at him and he said, 'The scenery is awfully boring ...”

Narihisago's eyes widened, even before she completed the sentence his own brain dredged up the rest, … _if you only look at the ground. Who cares what anyone else thinks about you, as long as you're true to yourself._

With a warm smile Hondomachi continued, “Those words helped me. He helped me. And I wanted to help others just like he did. Ever since that day all I ever wanted was a badge like his. I wanted to be a hero just like him.” She stared at him. “And you know what, I just realized his eyes looked a lot like yours, only they were brighter.”

Narihisago turned away. _There's a reason. That_ _ **was**_ _me! During the week after the Stitcher case, when Chief Tominaga had us busted back to uniformed patrol for that stupid drunken night. That little girl, I never realized … her name had been Koharu! Koharu Hondomachi!_

“I mean it seems silly, but I don't know if I ever would have gotten out of that bush that day on my own. I might have kept hiding, and I certainly wouldn't have found the guts to tell others to stuff it. Anyway, what made you want to become an officer.”

Distractedly, he muttered, “The first mystery novel I read. When I realized I could follow the clues to a resolution.” He had inspired her … to become a detective … without that … she wouldn't be here now. _Take responsibility for your reactions._ He had to make certain at least she made it out alive, back to the Kura … he owed her that much. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he shook it off. “Hondomachi, you and I do have an advantage. We both are extremely perceptive. Pay attention to them, help me get a solid read. Anything you can pick up, even the smallest detail.”

“You're not going to … ”

He bowed his head. “If I have to—but it won't be _for_ them.”

_**~ID~** _

Narihisago had to blink to convince himself this wasn't a rerun. But it couldn't be, even though Konya stood in the exact same place, exact same stance as the day before, he wore a different colored tie then before. A cloud pattern with a coiled flying dragon in reds and golds. The man was impeccably dressed, not a wrinkle in his suit. Not a spot on his crisp white shirt. Dress shoes shined to a gleaming finish. Probably had servants for that.

Or lackeys. The image of Orochi and Tsuyoshi shoving each other for the honor of delivering a spit polish to their boss brought a slight grin to Narihisago. He hoped that was unnerving as Tsuyoshi stood glaring over Konya's shoulder. The thug looked a bit nervous to begin with.

But something was off for the morning visitation. One thug was missing. Where was Orochi?

Konya drummed his fingers on the back of his hand. “Well, Narihisago, I hear you had a rough night. My sympathies. Are you ready to comply?” He nodded toward Izanagi, who by now barely reacted. The poor man had broken in the night like a beaten dog.

Narihisago took a deep breath and let it out. Nothing more.

With a strangled squeal, Tsuyoshi clamped his hands over his own mouth, tucking back away from Konya's distracted field of vision. When he lowered his hands, he wore a broad smile, reaching beneath his shirt and fingering a hilt of a large knife.

_Well now, that's curious._

Konya sighed and gestured to Tsuyoshi. “Have you heard from Orochi yet?”

“Yes sir. He'll be here shortly.”

“Accompanied, I presume?”

“Yeah. He was as excited about this development as we all were.”

“Patience. If you tip our hand the idiot may smell a rat and make this all the more difficult on our part. I prefer this to go off without a hitch. I have already been inconvenienced by being made to wait.”

“And him?” Tsuyoshi pointed with a thumb to Narihisago.

“One thing at a time. I am working on arrangements for the both of them.” He gestured toward Narihisago and Hondomachi. “You have your orders.”

Hondomachi nudged Narihisago, her brow quirked. He delivered a subtle shrug. They weren't the only ones who had made plans.

The overhead door opened below. Gas fumes rose up before the engine cut. A car door slammed followed by footsteps rising up the stairs. Two sets. A bulky man in a hooded jacket strode up beside Orochi. Motion in the open loft caught Narihisago's attention. Kenta and Ryota stood blocking the view of Izanagi from the stairs.

The hooded man stood before Konya and went down into a bow of full subjugation, staying that way while Konya stared over his head. Tsuyoshi and Orochi exchanged grins. At last he snapped his fingers and the man rose. “I trust that you are pleased with my payment to you?”

Narihisago's breath caught in his chest, almost as painful as when Orochi held his head beneath the water. He knew that voice. He could never forget that cocksure tone. He'd heard it too many times!

At Konya's signal, he tugged down his hood. “Sorry, sir.”

Tsutomu Itoh! The replacement head of the Kura's security after the incident.

Before Itoh started to turn around at Konya's gesture, the flash fire was already blazing in Narihisago's chest, decimating his reason. His fists clenched, rattling the cuffs in a growing crescendo.

_Rage can be calm and disquieting, like my voice when I give killers a subtle push on their way out of this world. Rage can drive a powerless being to injure the one thing still within their power, themselves. Rage can come through clenched teeth, or tear a primal scream from the throat. Or—rage surfaces as if someone left a kettle on a stove with the knob turned to high and wrenched clean off._

_Itoh was about get a front row seat of the latter and there was nothing I could do about it. Nor did I want to._

By the expression of complete pant-shitting shock on his face, it was clear that Itoh hadn't expected Narihisago to launch from the wall in a crazed, albeit awkward, dash toward him. His right ankle refused to support any weight, but that was only a minor detail. His knee would! Screaming bloody murder in a wordless cry, in a rapid uneven gait he shot toward the singular target, the source of their current captivity.

Clearly _no one_ was expecting this, after all Narihisago had been fairly shiftless this entire time. Even Konya flinched back, breaking his usual calm demeanor. Orochi and Tsuyoshi's jaws both hung slack a moment as they moved to evade even the remote possibility of a collision, despite the fact they were well out of range.

But Narihisago aimed for one thing, and one thing only. Itoh! In the midst of a full charge the end of the chain wrenched him backward, the momentum carried his feet up into the air before throwing him to the ground mercilessly. It left him flailing and ranting at the end of the taut chain. “Itoh, you fucking low-life traitor! How could you! You've endangered everyone, how could you sell me out like this?”

It took Itoh a moment to remember to breathe before he picked himself up off the floor. His voice a bit pinched at first. “You have no idea … how much I savored getting rid of you once I realized how valuable you are.”

Narihisago growled and even still lying on his side managed to lunge toward the man. “Valuable? I'm a human being, not livestock for barter, you asshole!”

Itoh flinched backward, beads of sweat on his forehead. When the chain held fast, a bold smile grew on his face. “A human being? Not even close. You're a deranged psycho. But as much of a pain in the ass as you were to handle, that shit about you … it was all true. I didn't believe a word of it until I saw it for myself. The face of that moron director when he realized what you'd done—again. Talking some poor sad sap to death. Haha! Fuck, that was unreal. The man who can kill with words. You're a veritable gold mine.”

Growling, Narihisago trembled with fury. The cuffs dug into his left wrist as he thrashed anew. “The only moron is you! You had a duty. A job! And you couldn't even do that!”

“What?” He grinned, stepping a bit closer. “My job was to control the prisoners in Kura's cell blocks.”

“That doesn't include restraining and indiscriminately beating them, you bastard!”

“No one told me I'd be managing a bunch of deranged fucks like you. Why they kept any of you alive I have to question.”

“That's not your call! Not anyone else's call, either!”

“Do you realize how ludicrous that is coming from the mouth of a serial killer?” He scoffed. “Why do _you_ , of all people get to decide?”

Barely reining it in, Narihisago huffed a few breaths, eyes still narrowed dead on target. Nothing else mattered more than reaching him. Throwing his weight around, he managed to get onto his knees, his chain hung behind him with just a bit of slack. He answered acidically “I don't decide shit. You're an ignorant fool, Itoh. You'll pay for your stupidity.”

He shrugged, a smarmy grin on his face. “Oh, but that's the deal. You see, you're paying _for_ me. I owed these fine men a bit of cash, you see. You can't possibly imagine how thrilled I was to learn a few days ahead of time they were going to send you outside of Kura. Sure made an impossible task easy as pie. I didn't have to find a way to sneak you out. I realized that a skill like yours would be invaluable to the yakuza, and once you were no longer part of the Kura—you were no longer my problem. I'd never have to deal with that troublesome temper of yours again.” He bent down close, rubbing it in. “Two birds—one stone.”

The trembling fury infused Narihisago's body, the rage swirled into a maelstrom. There either had to be a release or the pent up frustration might end up killing him in a burst artery! “Fuck your stone!” In a swift motion, Narihisago drew his head back and slammed his forehead into Itoh's with a solid crack! It was enough force to send the man crumpling backward into a sobbing heap. Blinding lights flashed in front of Narihisago's eyes as he toppled to the floor. His breathing became infected with low laughter. In that moment, he realized the reasons for the thug's exchanged grins, and it was irresistibly ironic.

“What are you doing? Get your hands off me!” Itoh wailed out.

Narihisago couldn't even see Itoh as he felt the trickle of blood down his own forehead, but he didn't need to see anything. He knew what was happening. “Time's up, prick. Now the fucked one—is you!”

_**~ID~** _

Hondomachi remained backed against the wall precisely as Narihisago had asked her, watching everything with a hawk's eye. She hadn't known Itoh personally, having only seen him in uniform in the halls maybe once or twice. It took everything she had not to join Narihisago in the outrage. This man's voice was the one who had suggested taking her. She had no doubt.

But someone had to keep a level head, and right now that had to be her. She'd never expected Narihisago's reaction, not the degree of savagery he displayed. How much did it take to flat out ignore the crippling pain in his left leg? And now facing this it all made sense, the stories about him … the fear … and even the hatred of some of the guards. It was obvious, even though he had his reasons, Narihisago was frighteningly beyond control.

After the skull-cracking headbutt, Narihisago lay neglected, curled on the floor snickering like a maniac as Orochi and Tsuyoshi bound Itoh's wrists and ankles together with a single chain. They held him up before Konya.

Whining and crying out, Itoh wriggled in their grasp, he blinked repeatedly apparently trying to clear his vision. “Sir, please, what have I done? I fulfilled my obligation!”

Konya stared down his nose. In response he waved a hand. The burly thugs cleared the way revealing Izanagi still breathing.

Like a caterpillar trying to break free from a cocoon, he gyrated in the thugs' hold. “Oh God, but … how … he should have by now … No! This can't be happening! Gaacck!”

Tsuyoshi rammed his gun into Itoh's neck, silencing him. Sweat mingled with the blood from his forehead, thinning it and carrying it faster.

Doing nothing to stop his henchmen from harassing him, Konya explained blandly, “You owed me a debt. It is now well past due.”

“But I paid you!”

He glanced to Narihisago who was now glaring toward Itoh. “Insufficient, as you can see. He fails to live up to your words.”

“He just needs a bit of motivation.” Itoh thrashed. It did him little good. “Let me go, I have the day off, if I don't show up for work tomorrow they will become suspicious. I'll be ruined.”

Konya cocked an eyebrow. “My boys have motivated him to the degree that if he were capable of your tall tale, he would have done it. I will not be lied to. And I could not care less about your work troubles. All I wanted was my money, or something worth its value. You failed to deliver on time as stated in our contract.”

“Please! This is a misunderstanding! I need more time!”

“A deadline is a deadline.” Konya smirked. “I find it interesting how readily you whine. This entire time we have held Narihisago not once has he begged. Nor has the girl.”

Hondomachi held her reaction in check. The fact was that was true, and in a strange way that was a complement.

Itoh threw a panicked look at Narihisago. “Well I … that's cause … sir I … ” renewing his struggle he gave Konya a wide-eyed stare. “I don't understand why he didn't do it!”

Narihisago scowled and snapped, “You never understood a damn thing about how it worked, it's conditional you moron!”

Sliding a slow gaze over to Narihisago, the hint of a grin crossed Konya's sly features. “Oh … so the stories are indeed true, you _can_ do it. I should like to know what those conditions are.”

Flinching, Narihisago closed his eyes. “Fuck!”

“No matter. You and I shall conclude our business after I am done closing my contract with him.”

“Sir,” Itoh's voice rose in a panic. “I beg of you! Give me a way out of this!”

Orochi started to cackle. “There's a way out, buddy. You'll see.”

“I regret we cannot conclude our business during daylight hours. Gentlemen, please make our guest comfortable until my appointment with him. I will return tomorrow morning two hours before dawn.”

They dragged Itoh to the railing and ran the rest of the hauling chain around his chest, crossing alternatively over his shoulder and under the armpits, locking him tight against the rail as they patted his head. Tsuyoshi grinned. “You were warned, rat.” He hauled his fist back and struck him hard across the face.

“I paid my debt! It's not my fault!” He wailed and thrashed, tears ran down his red cheeks as he tried to break free. “Please! Don't do this! I can pay you, I'll find a way! For heaven's sake don't leave me like this! I'm a human being!”

Kenta grabbed the now silent Narihisago and hauled him back against the wall, dropping him onto his side. As the thug departed with the others, Narihisago lay there, heaving each breath and trembling, his eyes unfocused around the blood trickling from his forehead.

“You just hurt yourself. Why did you do that?” Hondomachi whispered.

“I trick I learned … in prison … out of desperation … to keep myself from doing something far worse.” His bitter smile sent a shiver down her spine, not wanting to know what that something was.


	10. Chapter 10

Matsuoka didn't look over his shoulder as he stood outside the door waiting for security to open it. Behind him in the hallway he could feel Yokota's presence. To his credit, the man had not broken the stoic composure so far. That was likely about to change.

The guard at the door opened it and waved them inside.

Immediately he heard Momoki's voice sternly calling out, “Anaido's approaching the target area. Eyes open.”

From above Habutae answered, “Even with his memories intact, this spot has proven to be a death trap. What are we on, day three of this?”

Striding into the room, Matsuoka folded his arms. Normally they were only allowed on the upper observation ring, staring through the window. This was not normal—than again nothing about this case had been. His call ahead had given him clearance.

Yokota, curiosity getting the better of him, walked a bit closer to the holographic well display. At one time this room had certainly left Matsuoka astounded. The strange combination of the well map layout with the images pouring out on the screen. He had sat and watched some of the dives, observing Sakaido running toward certain death always amused him. Not that he would mention that aloud to anyone. Still, he covertly watched Yokota's eyes, the stoic nature undergoing a dash of cold water he hadn't prepared for as Anaido's perspective played out on Momoki's screen. “What's going on?”

That brought a satisfied grin to Matsuoka's face. He kept his voice to a gruff whisper, “This would be the technology that gives the Kura its edge.”

“Director,” Togo called out, “His heart rate is growing erratic.”

Momoki nodded, grabbing a screen capture and shoving it aside. “Understandable. That bullet grazed him.”

“We're pushing him. Remember, that isn't Narihisago down there. Fukuda lacks his stamina.”

A moment later over the speaker the sound of a bullet smacking flesh ended in a foreshortened scream.

“Anaido has died.”

“Dammit. Extract him.”

On the screen, the man in the cockpit sat forward, gripping his chest and gasping.

Yokota blinked, his mouth open, a strange strangled sound coming from his throat. Savoring the moment, Matsuoka folded his arms and waited for the team to finish.

Momoki bowed his head. “We fell short of it—again.”

“ _Sorry … I really tried to get there … but this guy is a devastating shot. Could snipe my hole. Another run?”_

Momoki raised his head and held up a finger. After a moment he lowered his hand. “No. You need to take a break. Togo, have him escorted to his cell for lunch. Everyone else, go and get something to eat. We'll take another stab this afternoon.”

On the screen a pair of guards stepped forward and cuffed Fukuda's wrists, escorting him out of the chamber. At that moment Yokota locked eyes with Matsuoka. He'd totally lost his composure, glasses at the end of his nose. “Was  _that_ a prisoner? They mentioned the name of the guy we're after … he's a prisoner, a serial killer, as you said. But you're putting them … the criminals … serial killers … in a machine? What the hell was that?”

With a smile, Matsuoka nodded. “We are, and he is, yes. What better way to catch a killer than with a killer who understands their unhinged thought process. That machine provides the gateway to solving murder crimes. We picked up two cognition particle signatures at the accident site. What you saw was one of them.”

“Cog … cog … cognition particles?”

“It's all very complicated.”

Before he could explain further, Momoki turned from the screen to face them looking harried and in need of a whole pot of coffee. “Tell me you have something.”

Matsuoka reached into his pocket and pulled out two small chunks of metal in evidence bags. “Sure did. Kokufu figured you'd want to see this first hand.” He dropped it into Momoki's hand.

He inhaled sharply. “It couldn't have come from the guards' guns. This isn't the right caliber for the department issued firearms.”

“That's right. The bullet was extracted from one of the guards. The casing from a vehicle.” Matsuoka heaved a sigh. “I concede this much, someone else was involved. If they were, I'd like to know how Narihisago coordinated outside of the Kura.”

“I don't think he did.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, the guy is clever enough I wouldn't put it past him. We get our hands on him, I want a round with him in the interrogation room. Anyway, we're about to turn these in for processing, see if the pattern matches any known evidence on file. Maybe we can get lucky.”

Out of the corner of his eye he watched Yokota enthralled with the screen captures. Right now that detective was useless.

He took the bag back. “Don't think for a second that I have dismissed the possibility he's involved.”

Momoki sighed and scrubbed his hair with his fingers. “I know, I know. Thanks for showing me this. When you get the results will you let me know?”

“Of course.” Grabbing Yokota's shoulder he tugged him toward the door. “Let's go, detective. You've seen enough.”

“To think,” Yokota murmured, “this is how you were doing it. Those remarks of laying down on the job … ”

He sighed as the door shut behind them. “Those were the times when Narihisago was out of commission, before we recruited other pilots.”  _All this time. All those arrests. For so long, until they tried Fukuda, until Hondomachi … Narihisago was it. The Kura's solitary pilot. It was easy to overlook that, easy to think of him dying over and over in the wells in relentless pursuit of an answer. Getting what that sick bastard deserved._ He cringed thinking of how Hondomachi spoke of him, excitement, even honor in her eyes. Clenching a fist, he stormed toward evidence processing.  _He better not be showing her his true self!_

_**~ID~** _

It was quiet in the dim loft as the shards of light stabbed downward tracing patterns on the floor grates. Lying on his right side, Narihisago's desperate plan to derail the run away rage train left him with a residual headache and a scab tugging on his forehead. But it had done the trick, he was calm and collected again. It wasn't his fault that Itoh volunteered his head. The thugs spoke below, the scent of a hot meal drifted upward, tormenting his empty stomach. But, he was too tired to care about something he couldn't fix. With his ear against the grate he could heard their words clearer than before.

Orochi did nothing to muffle his voice, “That's half the benefit of working for him. I'll be honest, I don't want a different boss. Under Konya, since he is such a savage businessman, there are always plenty of walking corpses waiting to be bled.”

“Yeah.” Tsuyoshi replied, clearly still chewing and swallowing. “The boss sets 'em up for the fall nice enough for us. Almost like he makes it impossible for them to obtain the goal.”

“Hah, you mean like that sap up there? That rat was _never_ walking out of this. I was there when he got the money. Konya knew he'd fail. Counted on it.”

“Just like Izanagi.”

“Well, that one was also a given. That fool tried to run. Since I had to chase him down the boss figured he'd make a great test subject for his new toy. Shame that isn't working out. I can't be the only who wanted to see that happen. Ahhh well, looks like one of us will get to end Izanagi the old fashioned way in the long run.”

“Kinda nice that the boss never takes part in that. Hehe. Just stands and watches the entertainment.”

Orochi snorted. “Shit, his last hit was ages ago, if it's to be believed. When he was still a teenager his father made him draw first blood on a traitor. But it makes sense. Can't go to the office covered in blood. Wouldn't be … ” a phone rang. “Yeah? … That's what I said, a skirt … When is the shipment going out? … Not for another two days? Fine, we'll keep her til then.”

Narihisago stiffened, glancing toward Hondomachi, her head bowed, she was sleeping. Or at the very least trying to. _Two days? Shit! We have to get out of here somehow!_ He tried his luck against cuffs and padlock once again, to no avail.

“What was I saying? Oh, who cares. Fact is we done our part. We'll be rewarded for everything going off without a hitch. Ryota, make sure that blade is nice and sharp.” A knife thudded into wood, leaving the hum of the blade. A moment later came the tell tale _shink_ of the metal against a whetstone.

“Hey, whadya think the boss'll do with that nut job we swiped if he doesn't pull off that stunt?”

“Dunno. He hasn't ordered me to make any special arrangements for him yet, just the skirt. At least that was an easy call.”

“You saw when he lost it. Wouldn't have thought it possible when he was just sitting there, but when worked up that guy looks like a bruiser. Maybe hock him off to the rings?”

“Maybe. House'd make a fortune off folks underestimating. But you heard him talk to the rat. Before anything else happens there, we get to try and pry the 'circumstances' out of him. We might get to see that outrageous story for ourselves. Just waiting for the boss to signal me the go ahead.”

“You? Hey! I can do it too!”

Orochi laughed. “You got leveled by a chick.”

“Shut up! Not talking to you anymore!”

“Fine by me.”

Silence fell below, save for the methodical drawing of a blade over a whetstone and the slow drip from the holes in the roof overhead.

Hondomachi stirred, glancing down at him. “At least your head stopped bleeding.”

He offered a weary grin, concealing his concern for her fate. “Usually does.”

“That wasn't the first time you've done that?”

He shook his head.

“Huh. It's still really weird.”

It was hard to shrug lying on one shoulder, but he tried to do it anyway. “You got me there. Did you at least get some rest?”

Likewise, she offered him a shrug. “A bit. You?”

“Didn't even attempt to. Not worth trying to fight for it right now.”

Her eyes searched him, narrowing. But she didn't remark.

Sobbing grabbed their attention. Across the open loft, they watched Itoh writhing where he'd be chained to the railing. His cheeks were drenched with tears. “Please … ” he sniffled, “ … someone help me!”

“Why would they?” Hondomachi stared at him blandly.

_A cold remark that the bastard deserves._

Itoh whimpered, “This shouldn't be happening to me.”

Her tone couldn't be more even. “Reality check. You totally sold us out. What kind of an idiot hands over someone with Narihisago's abilities to be used to commit more murders?”

The fool wasn't listening. “Because, I shouldn't be here suffering like this! Even though I'm in security, I'm still an officer.”

Narihisago eyed her, “Heh, funny how that didn't apply to you.”

“Yeah.” Hondomachi's expression darkened. “I noticed.”

Itoh gaped like a fish. Now he was listening.

“Careful, you're in hot water with her. And I've seen what she can do when she's angry.”

Snapping out of it a bit, Itoh's voice cracked as he scowled back. The scab on his own forehead clearly troubled him as he winced. “My point is, I'm a human being.”

Narihisago cocked an eyebrow. “And …?”

“And what?”

Hondomachi leaned toward him. “And we're not?”

Itoh's breath caught for a moment. “That's not what I mean—”

“Oh this is an amusing view.” Narihisago chuckled. “Seeing you struggle with reality.”

“Shut up! This isn't funny!”

“Oh cry me a fuckin' river! I mean you have already started, coward. You are responsible for this mess. You and no one else.”

“Me? Because you won't cooperate, they're going to kill both us!”

Narihisago lifted an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that? Oh yes, the ignorant power trippy coward whose favorite activity was to walk through the prison swinging his stick around. Not funny when you're on the receiving end, is it! You know what else isn't funny? Kicking a guy in his still healing gut when his hands are cuffed behind his back. I never told Momoki about that, but I damn well should have.”

Hondomachi drew in a sharp breath. “When was that?”

“Shortly after I came back to the cell block, before the days I spent on that marathon dive to catch the Predator. I still had sutures!”

“Wait, that case that started with me out of town?” She fired a glare at Itoh. “You piece of shit. Did you know he was injured?”

Narihisago answered for him as he went tight-lipped. “Oh, he knew. The dick did it on purpose.”

Itoh's eyes widened. “You were being uncooperative!”

“Uhhh … no, I wasn't. I'm not the only prisoner you mishandled just because you felt like being a jackass. Trust me, if you had even a chance of getting out of this the only way you'd set foot in the Kura again is being shoved into a cell! And if I had my way it would be across from me so I could watch you die!”

“I'll be going back.”

Narihisago grinned at him until he lost a bit of a color. “Don't be so certain of that.”

“What would you know?”

“Apparently far more than you about what happens to yakuza loan shark victims.”

His breath caught in his chest.

Hondomachi glanced down at Narihisago. “I take it that knowledge comes from the cases you mentioned earlier?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. Itoh here will be fortunate if it's quick. And quite frankly, the odds are he may not be identifiable. Hope his DNA is on file somewhere.”

“What?” Itoh's voice edged up an octave. He kicked his feet even though they were tethered together, something akin to a thrashing worm. “What are you talking about, you freak?”

Narihisago ignored him and spoke to Hondomachi. “Momoki and I had a number of cases that crossed paths with the yakuza.”

“Homicides, right?” 

_Oh she knew, she's just rubbing it in, watching his heart rate skyrocket._ “Well, that was our department after all. Yeah of course there were corpses. People who displeased a member one way or another. In a few cases we arrived to find them still breathing, but most … weren't.” He watched as Itoh grew still, eyes locked wide in an ever growing terror. Narihisago's vocal timber remained brutally confident. “The ones who lived spoke of holding the knife themselves.” And down below the  _shink shink shink_ continued preparing it for service. “The man they'd wronged forced them.” He turned his full attention to Itoh.

“Forced what?” He gulped in air. “Forced what? Tell me!”

Narihisago chuckled low. “To make a sacrifice of their own flesh.” Beside him, Hondomachi smiled crookedly.

Itoh's breathing increased, growing to a panic as he wailed out wordlessly. 

“Awww. Should have read your contract better. Too late now.”

“Please! Save me! I don't want to die!”

Closing his eyes, Narihisago muttered. “It's not so bad, really. At least you only have to experience it once.”

_**~ID~** _

A bloodless corpse could have competed with Itoh for the palest tone even in the predawn lantern light. He sat on the floor, shoes and socks stripped off, baring his toes. While Tsuyoshi held his gun to him, Kenta and Ryota had unchained him. Now he sat there in a puddle of his own piss, with a hunter's skinning knife in his shaking hand. 

Narihisago grunted as he used his right foot to push up against the wall enough for a better angle. He grinned as he watched, calling to mind every single time that Itoh had either inflicted, or stood idly by as his men used excessive force for no other reason than amusement.  _I never dreamed I would get to see him pay the piper. But karma is a raging bitch when you throw your lot in with the yakuza._

Tears and snot mingled as Itoh babbled up at the boss standing back far enough, “Please—I can't do this!”

Konya didn't say a word. He simply drummed his fingers, his rings forming a cadence. 

Tsuyoshi leaned forward. “If I have to do it for you, it'll be worse, pal.”

“This is inhumane!”

“You and I entered a contract.” Konya flatly replied. “The contract has been broken. This is the required collection fee.”

“Bu—!” 

The gun striking him across the head silenced him.

Neither Narihisago nor Hondomachi flinched. Both watched the man who responsible for their current misery without a shred of sympathy. 

Itoh swallowed, staring at the knife for a minute longer before he followed the instructions he'd been given. He lowered the tip of the blade to his right pinky toe, and gritting his teeth—he severed it off in a fast swipe. Sobbing, he picked up the digit from the grating and held it up in a trembling hand in offering to Konya.

He plucked the bloody toe up and not even looking at it, dropped it into a bucket at his side. “Wrong one.”

“Tch!” Itoh shuddered, his eyes staring in a wide-eyed panic. No one looked away. 

_Interesting. This isn't how it usually goes, at least from what I heard. When this is used, it's a single digit offered as an apology for transgression._ Narihisago narrowed his eyes, watching Konya's expression, reading his intent.  _Unless … this is a mind game. He didn't tell him which one. Something tells me that was the point._

Itoh whimpered as he lowered the knife. Cringing up at Konya he sliced through the next toe. The blood dripped between his fingers as he lifted it up in offering.

Once more Konya took it from him and dropped it into the bucket, staring expectantly. 

Narihisago cocked his head. One by one under the watchful glare, with his blood dripping down between the grating, Itoh severed every toe on his right foot. When that failed to locate the request, with a trembling hand he was forced to switch to the left.

By now Itoh wobbled, both his feet bereft of their toes. Ten wounds slowly oozed blood. He was lucky that fear has pulled his blood to his core before he started. “P-please … I can't … I have … no more.” 

Konya didn't so much as move. It was Orochi who bent down and grabbed Itoh's blood soaked left hand, flattening it out on the grating as the man yelped.

“N-no! Not my fingers! That will be obvious! I can't hide that from view!” 

In truth, with all his toes missing he couldn't hide that either. The limp would be obvious. But blood-loss doesn't allow for solid thinking.

With a savage smile, Orochi gripped his hand holding the knife, he pressed it closer to the bare flesh. “Do it. Find the proper offering, rat!”

Itoh whined, his eyelids swollen from crying as he shifted the knife over his fingers. Cringing, he brought the blade down, once again starting at the pinky.

With each passing cut the light in Konya's eyes grew, screaming volumes to Narihisago.  _So that's his game!_

“What is it?” Hondomachi whispered.

He leaned close to her ear. “Have you figured out which digit will be the proper offering?”

She shook her head.

“The final one.”

For a brief moment her eyes widened. But it didn't last long. In a quiet snarl into his ear she vented, “If it hadn't been for him we wouldn't be here.”

Before long, a flush-faced Itoh had to release the knife to pick up the final digit severed from his left hand. His eyes ran dry as he sobbed.

Konya batted the thumb into the bucket and pointed to his right hand. 

In dismay, Itoh stared at his left, no fingers left to grasp the knife with. Just raw fleshy stumps. “But … how … I can't … ”

“Let me give you hand.” Tsuyoshi picked up the blood-slick blade with a sadistic grin. 

“No!” Itoh drew his hand to his chest. All in vain, Orochi grasped his arm and slammed the hand down onto the grating. “Wasn't this enough? AHHHH!”

Picking up the first severed finger, Tsuyoshi didn't even offer it to Konya, he just chucked it into the bucket. One after the next, he sliced them off as Itoh's thrashing dwindled. Tsuyoshi only held up the last one. “Oh what a shame, rat. You're all out of flesh to offer.” He flicked it into the bucket and wiped the blade off on Itoh's jacket.

Itoh barely remained conscious, his eyes waggling all around.

“Boss?” Orochi averted his chin.

All that transpired was a nod.

The thugs laughed, clapping their hands. “Good thing it's still dark out.” Orochi tapped Itoh's cheeks. “Come on boys, time to go make a deposit at the bank.”

Carefully, they hefted Itoh up along with the chain, trying to avoid getting too much blood on them. They carted him down the staircase with Konya bringing up the rear.

Narihisago and Hondomachi craned their ears, listening through the holes in the siding. 

SPLASH!

“Wow, we really are close to the harbor.”

Narihisago nodded. “If we could hear that, yeah.” He noted something else, an absence of even the sound of a feeble attempt to swim. In truth, who could with that much damage to their hands and feet. Couldn't get anymore powerless than that.  _Serves him right. And who knows, maybe someone will find the body._

Footsteps carried up the stairs. Five sets of them. They crossed the loft and stood straight in front of him, cracking knuckles. Konya's stern eyes locked on Narihisago. 

_Uh oh!_

“Now that we have completed that transaction, I want to know what those circumstances are you that mentioned yesterday.” He snapped his fingers.


	11. Chapter 11

The lock clattered against the grating, the cuffs still engaged. The moment Narihisago shifted in a desperate attempt to get his leg beneath him, Kenta and Ryota seized his upper arms in iron grasps. One of them alone was enough to hold him at bay, it hardly required both. The struggle wasn't worth the energy he would spend. 

They dragged him out into the middle of the floor, farther than his chain would've reached. A quiet dread filled Narihisago as they forced him chest down on the floor. A pair of strong hands pressed against each of his shoulders down before he felt someone else unlock the cuff around his right wrist. To his surprise, one at a time his arms were stretched out over his head, and the cuff relocked.

_Odd, my arms able to get in front of me offers more maneuverability. What are they doing?_

His shoulders, used to being locked in a position behind him for days now, complained. That wasn't shocking. The cuffs had been put on him in the Kura and hadn't been released at all since. The weight didn't let up. 

A clanking sound overhead, followed by Orochi's call, “That should be good. Heft him up.”

In a swift motion they lifted him upright. The cuff chain caught over something, so when they let go he was more or less hanging by it over his head. By some miracle, or placement, the weight on his right wrist rested on the outside, verses where they had cut his wrist to extract the chip. His right foot had enough contact with the floor to take some of his weight, but not enough to free the chain. He glanced up to find an old trawling hook and chain on a winch holding him fast as it hung from the rafters. 

_Ok, I have to admit, Orochi nailed my height by eyeballing it. That's either lucky … or he's had enough practice. That latter is a bit disturbing._ Stretched out, facing the railing, he tried to glance over his shoulder to see what was going on.

Off to his left, Konya stood with his hand on the railing, face completely placid. “Narihisago. You mentioned circumstances. You will tell me what those are.”

_I don't care what you do to me,_ he tried to keep his breathing steady,  _I'm never going to kill for you!_

Waiting for a few minutes, Konya watched barely blinking. “Interesting. Well the rat did tell me you could be difficult. Fine. There is more than one way to strike a deal.” He lifted a hand in a welcoming gesture and took a step back. “Orochi.”

“Heh heh, I've been waiting for this.” Orochi's voice stiffened Narihisago. He was right behind him. So close that his breath stirred the hair on the back of his neck. “Someone's been a naughty boy!”

CRACK!

Narihisago arched his back, the shock propelled him forward as far as his good foot would reach. Through clenched teeth he hissed as something struck him hard and fast in the shoulder, leaving behind what stung like a snakebite. It wasn't, through the corner of his eye he caught sight of the end of a leather belt.

He shuddered. Not his first experience with this. Though in that id well Momoki had pulled him before he'd been lashed to death. 

There would be no extraction here.

The end of the belt vanished from view. “Hurts like a son of bitch, don't it.” Orochi laughed and took a deep breath.

Narihisago braced as much as he could, this time knowing what was coming—which almost made it worse. 

It was a mistake. His taut muscles gave the improvised lash a harder point of contact. This time he had to bite down harder not to cry out.

_That's what he wants! Don't give him that pleasure!_ Vengeance simmered in the strikes, a man exorcising his demon.

Again and again the lash bit across back, tearing the fabric of his shirt, forcing him to swallow the agony as he sagged in the chain's grasp.

Hondomachi screamed from behind. “Narihisago! Stop hitting him!”

CRACK!

“Ahhh!” Narihisago lost his nerve, the cry escaped him. “Shit!”

A scuffle broke out behind him close to the outer wall, Tsuyoshi barked, “Tired of your voice! Time to shut you up!”

All Narihisago heard from her now were muffled cries. And they were furious!

The pain welled up, spreading further and deeper, aching in his bones with each breath. He had lost track of the strikes around five, and there had been quite a few more. He wasn't even trying to stand anymore, just hanging limp by his wrists, wincing with each strike.

Konya held up a hand and stepped directly in front of Narihisago. He placed a warm finger beneath his chin and lifted it. Narihisago had nearly forgotten how cold he was till that comparative moment. Forcing Narihisago to look him in the eyes, Konya declared. “I am listening.”

Panting for a few breaths Narihisago made a poor attempt to spit on the man's face. They had skipped the morning water ration, there wasn't enough saliva. He narrowed his eyes and forced out in two breaths, “Fuck … you … ”

In a wave Narihisago's eyes lost focus denying him the view of Konya's reaction … a shaft of morning daylight stretching across the rafters they refocused on the pealing paint at the other end of the building. His breath hitched. He'd been too far back to see it before, the light too dim most of the time. The logo on the wall—he knew it! A smiling narwhal skewering a fish on its horn leaping through a four pointed star.  _Holy shit! I've been here before! The old North Star Fishing warehouse … the case, this is where we caught the Stitcher. I know where we are! But—this place was supposed to be torn down!_

“Pay attention!” The belt striking the base of his neck on the left side brought him out of it. This time it hurt worse. Orochi had flipped it around, the prong of the buckle bit into his bare flesh.

Narihisago's head flew back in a scream. 

“The boss was talking to you!” 

“Thank you, Orochi.” Konya tapped his rings together.

Forcing his eyes open, Narihisago stared up into the rafters with their rays of light. Every breath took an epic battle to draw in. Hanging with his chest extended made it harder to begin with, the growing collection of welts made it agonizing. Begging for this to stop would do no good. No one who had stood that calmly and forced a man to remove every digit would give one shit over a plea. That had been Itoh's mistake … well, one of many.

Orochi grabbed Narihisago's hair and tugged his head to face Konya. “The circumstances?”

_It won't matter what I say … no, it does. I can't give a man like this access, bad enough it happens in the first place. I'd rather take this abomination to the grave._ Closing his eyes, Narihisago barely got his reply out, “ … piss off … ”

The hand released his hair and in a heartbeat, the strokes continued.

He gritted his teeth. It had been at least two dozen blows, he no longer felt the individual welts. Just a solid mass of pain. A few left behind a rivulet of sticky fluid. He stared at the floor, shiftless.

“Not gonna talk, boy?” Orochi snarled at length. “Then you don't need to breathe.”

He hadn't felt the belt slipped around his neck. With a savage tug, Orochi yanked it through the buckle. The leather cinching tight against Narihisago's neck cut off his airway to only a narrow passage. Each desperate breath whistled. Laughter filed his ears, Orochi and Tsuyoshi. In the distance Hondomachi's muted cries reached him … but just barely. The edges of his vision began to black out, tunneling, closing in on him.

Konya held up a hand. “Enough.”

The tension on the belt immediately slackened. A hand reached up and unlocked the cuff. Unceremoniously, Narihisago tumbled in a heap to the floor. He stared at his hands in front of him, unbound. He trembled, but still … only one cuff was locked. For the moment, he was unbound. Visions flashed through his mind of the day he had lost it with the guards at the Kura, his fingers curled around the metal of the cuffs still attached to one wrist into a make-shift brass knuckles.

_Tomorrow they are going to take Hondomachi. I can't let that happen. No matter what happens to me._

Painstakingly, he planted his left hand on the grating and pushed up with a grunt. It hurt, but this was a chance. A chance he would take. They had to get out of these vile men's hands.

Tsuyoshi closed the distance, aiming to knee him. His eyes widened as Narihisago's right hand un-holstered his gun.

“Oh shit! How did he get that?”

“Relax.” Orochi pushed a hand against Tsuyoshi's chest, staring mockingly at Narihisago. “Go ahead, I want to see you try and squeeze the trigger.”

Braced on his left hand, trembling from a combination of exhaustion and pain, he held the gun in his right. The barrel rode up and down relentlessly as he breathed, struggling to keep his aim lined up on Konya. _This vile man … must die!_

Narihisago's finger flexed, the pressure against the trigger ignited a fire up his arm. He cried out as the gun tumbled from his limp grasp. His left arm gave out, dropping him to the grating as he grabbed his bandaged wrist. _NO! That was our chance!_

Orochi laughed and pointed. “Fool. That cut was close to tendons and nerves. You never had a chance of that working.”

Picking up the gun, Tsuyoshi shoved it back home before drawing his foot back and delivering a swift kick to the gut. It barely added to what Narihisago already drowned in, still hugging his injured arm. _I failed … shit … I failed Hondomachi. They're gonna take her!_

Orochi snorted. “I didn't hold back. He would have talked by now. Shit must not be true.”

With a long sigh, Konya stared down and nodded once. “Agreed. It is pointless to continue.”

“What do you want to do with him?”

“The fighting rings are always restocking fresh meat. I'll leave it up to them if they want to let him heal, or just use him as a punching bag for practice. Secure him for now, make the arrangements. I want to be done with this place tomorrow. Understood?”

“Sir.”

At the snap of the fingers, Kenta dragged Narihisago across the floor and recuffed his hands behind his back, padlocking the chain in place.

Lying on his right side, Narihisago slowly blinked. Above him, Kenta tugged the gag from Hondomachi's mouth. She would have rushed him, if Ryota hadn't been holding her in place. The moment she was free, she yelled at their retreating forms. “Sons of bitches! All of you! Where do you get off? I'm warning you! One chance. One chance is all I need!”

“Don't … ” Narihisago whispered to her, clenching his teeth to keep conscious. “Don't make my mistake and go off half-cocked.”

She huffed a breath and glared as the men left. Once they were alone, Hondomachi switched her concerned gaze down on Narihisago. “Hey, you ok? You're really not looking good.”

He took a few breaths before he forced out in a low voice, “It hurts to breathe … but I'll manage … because I have to.” Every breath dragged the edges of the welts against his shirt. “We have to get out of here.”

“No kidding! The next time they come up here I'm going to kick their asses!”

The horizon blurred, Narihisago closed his eyes fighting the pull. His stomach churned, but not from the recent torture. The lump was made of cold dread. “The next time they come up here … they'll be taking you away.”

She sat up straighter. “Wait, what? Where!”

“You were sleeping. I overheard them talking.”

She leaned closer. “Taking me where?”

“Konya sold you to the human trafficking racket.”

Heat rose in her cheeks. “He did **what**!”

He shuddered, hating the sound of the chain rattling. When he braved the agony in his wrist he checked the cuffs only to be disappointed. They were latched tight, and the padlock secure. Not that he could even crawl in his current condition. It was morning … they had approximately twenty-four hours to figure something out before they would be separated.

The sound of the chain wasn't strictly his own, Hondomachi stalked back and forth, stomping her disapproval. “Why those absolute scumbags! There is no way I'm going to … ooooo! Arrrrg! The very idea! I'm going to castrate them!”

“Hondomachi,” he tried to lift his head but it tugged on the gash in the side of his neck. “Sit down … please. Don't attract them up here … I can't take anymore.”

Reluctantly she sat down beside him, her expression softening, tinged with worry. “Don't worry. I'm not going to be a sex slave, and you're not going to be sacrificed to some damned fighting ring. We'll figure something out. For now, get some sleep.”

He shook his head. “I can't … not yet.” Though he desperately wanted to, it evaded him, he was shaking too hard.

After a few minutes of watching him lie there, she asked, “Do you need a distraction?”

“Yeah. I could use one.”

“Konya. He's a twisted man. Cruel of heart and controlling. But he doesn't do the actual deed. Just watches as the others do his bidding. It isn't purely a power aspect. It's as if, he won't do it himself for some reason. It's the spectacle of it. Like someone methodically causing a train wreck so they can stand back and watch.”

_Good … yes … she's been profiling._ “Go on.” He let her soft voice breaking down the man wash over him, latching on to the distraction and letting it take the edge. She'd been thorough, nailing each of the thugs down in similar conclusions to his own.

He must've drifted off, in the darkness her foot nudged his shoulder. “Narihisago?”

He opened his eyes. “Mmmph?”

“Phew! You're breathing so shallow right now. It was hard to tell. For a moment I was worried you'd died.”

Drowsily he muttered, “I'd never die and leave you alone … ” A bolt shot through his chest.  _Those words … not those words._ He cringed, unable to suppress it. 

Hondomachi missed it, keeping her voice soft with a tone of curiosity. “Hey, you had a daughter named Muku, right?”

His chest tightened, but he replied, “ … Yes … I did.”

“You've … you've talked about her a few times when we chatted in the room at the Kura before. So I was pretty sure.” After a pause she swallowed and went on, her eyes searching him. “Who is … Ayako?”

His breath froze in his chest. 

“S-sorry. I shouldn't have asked. It's just, you've muttered her name in your sleep a few times. You just did it again.”

_I have? I did? Was I dreaming?_ Narihisago shut his eyes against the wellspring of emotions roiling up. Impossible to untangle. Anger blazed in the darkness, churning into the raging wildfire. Blood, a vast pool of it … razor blade crusted … two amber eyes open and staring blindly … a vast empty void embracing him, swallowing him whole! His breath hitched as he struggled to rein it in.  _Not now! I can't face this now!_

Hondomachi shifted away from him. “Sorry! Clearly I shouldn't have asked!”

He carefully shook his head. “It's not your fault … it's just … not a pleasant memory.”

She drew her knees up to her chest. “Do you want me to be quiet?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “For now.”

“I'm sorry … I didn't mean to upset you.”

_No one ever means to … but they do._

_**~ID~** _

Kokufu barely glanced at his phone, the moment it rang, he answered. The calls were always important right now. “Hello?”

“ _Chief,”_ Soma's voice came across the line, _“I hated to bug you since I know you're in the middle of important business. But did Itoh contact you?”_

“No. Why?”

“ _It's just that, well, I didn't worry about it so much this morning, figured something came up and he'd be in after lunch. No one has seen him. He hasn't checked in. Did he have another day off?”_

Kokufu sighed and held his head up with a hand. “No. Not that I received word of. Great. This is all we need now. Thanks for letting me know. Staffing ok down there?”

“ _We'll manage it, Sir.”_

“Thank you. Let me know if you hear of anything. I'll put a call in for a check at his apartment.” He hung up and set his phone down. “Seriously, Itoh? As if I don't have enough to do.”

_**~ID~** _

The sky reflected on the ground in an endless horizon. Narihisago stood barefoot, staring down at his weary reflection. This was … was this really happening? He lifted his left foot and wriggled his toes, they were all the right flesh toned color. His jumpsuit a clean white. His wrists free and uninjured. In his reflection he didn't see a blackened eye or a scab in the center of his forehead.

What had happened? He closed his eyes in thought. The sun had set, bringing with it the chill of the evening. He was still held captive, as far as he knew. Was this just a dream … or … could it be …

“Akihito!” Kiki slammed into him from behind, nearly knocking him over. She held him tight. “Where have you been? It's been impossible trying to reach you!”

He hugged her back, resting his cheek against her hair. Soft silky hair draped down his bare arms, a sensation he craved. So gentle in this sanctuary. “At the moment I'm not in the Kura.”

“You're not?” She looked up at him, brow wrinkled. “What happened?”

“Momoki was trying to help me. Unfortunately when he sent me offsite … well, it's complicated, but we got abducted by some yakuza.”

“What?” She grabbed his arms, tugging on them. “Where are you now?”

He freed his arm and scratched his chin. “Still in a lot of trouble. The reason you're having a hard time is probably because I have a concussion.”

“Oh no! Are you alright?”

He wanted to lie to her … but the truth was … “No … I'm not doing well at all, Kiki. I'm not alone, they have Hondomachi too. Things look grim. I don't think the Kura can find us in time, not before they separate us. By then our recovery will become impossible.”

She pounded her fists on his chest. “This can't be happening! No! Get back here. Get back here right now!”

“I want to. I really do. There just isn't a way.” 

“Don't leave me all alone! You're the only I can reach. Without you … it will leave me at the mercy of those killers.”

Her head rested against his chest. “I'm sorry.” Gradually it dawned on him. “Wait … there might be a way out.” He pushed her chin up. “Can you get a message to Fukuda?”

Kiki cocked her head. “I … I don't think so. You're the only one I can reach like this. I haven't been able to do this with anyone else. And his mind is so different.”

“A dream, can you influence his dream with a vision if I describe it vividly enough to you.” It was his turn to grab her shoulders frantically. “Please Kiki! Time is critical! If we can get Fukuda to relay the image to Momoki, he will know where we are when he hears it!”

“I don't know if I can.”

He knelt down, grasping her hands. “You have to try! I'm desperate. This is the only way I can think of. Please, they're selling me off to the fighting rings and Hondomachi to human trafficking tomorrow. We'd never be able to dive, never be able to help catch another killer again. Kiki—we're going to die for real!”

“Don't leave me alone.” she gasped. After a moment, she clenched her fists. “Somehow I'll reach Fukuda. What do I need to show him?”

“Ok, with luck Momoki will remember this … ”


	12. Chapter 12

Darkness as far as the eye could see. Which … was ridiculous. That wasn't **seeing** a damn thing!

_It's usually not this dark in the cell block. There's always some ambient light for their nosy eyes. Am I dreaming?_

A blazing fireball erupted, waves of heat washed over Fukuda as he used an arm to shield himself from the blast. His eyes sluggishly adjusted to the light.

_Whoa! That ain't normal!_

Engulfed in flames, a police car lay over tuned—inside a building.

 _Hehehe, someone had a bad drift. Hrm, this is an odd dream for me. I've never dreamed of the police before. Let's face it, got no warm fuzzies for those guys. Wonder if they've painted over the numbers on my walls yet? Have to ask Momoki next chance I get._ He blinked, leaning forward. _Hello … what the heck is this?_

Wandering around the fire, which hadn't spread one bit, he ran his hand along a steel paneled wall, absently fingering the rust holes. The flicker of the flames touched the rafters overhead. But his eyes focused on the eve of the far wall. A crooked sign hung there. In peeling paint a cartoonish horned whale leapt through a star with four points. On its spiraled horn it had stabbed through a smiling fish.

“Gnarly! That's a whale with some serious style. Talk about nature's drill bit.” Standing back, he admired the work. Amateurish at best, but the concept, there was a certain appeal to it.

His foot slipped on something. Crouching down he realized it was pooling blood. In the surface the reflection of a bright flash caught his attention, a dark object overhead shifted by the heatwaves. He twisted around and looked up, narrowing his eyes.

“Well fuck me, if this isn't disturbing.” Hanging over his head from a large hook was a pair of handcuffs and a black shirt, partially shredded … as it shifted it revealed the white K of the Kura's logo.

Fukuda knew that shirt … _Narihisago!_

His eyes opened to the sound of the lights slamming on in the cell block. With more haste than usual, Fukuda dashed to the door of his cell and pounded his fists against it. “Guards!” He was surprised at the force of his voice, more accustomed to the subdued tone. “Guards! Come here! Hurry up!”

For a moment he stopped pounding, keening an ear to listen. Nothing.

He resumed with greater vigor. “Get over here, quick! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Swift footsteps came his way. Soma and Hagashi came to halt, confusion written on their faces. “What is it?”

Flattening his palms against the barrier, he pleaded, “I need to talk to Momoki right away!”

Hagashi scratched his head. “It's early, he's not here yet. Why?”

“I had a weird dream and I don't think there's much time.”

“Uhhh, yeah. Not sure the director is going to care about dreams right now.”

He pounded again. “This one he will! I think it was a coded message. Let me talk to Momoki!”

Soma held up a hand, stopping Hagashi's remark. “Stranger things have happened. I'll give him a call. Hagashi, cuff Fukuda, we're taking him to the interrogation room. You can wait there for him.”

With a relieved sigh, Fukuda extended his wrists in front of him as the door opened. His eyes strayed to the empty cell across the way. _Soon now. It's been lonely without anyone to talk to._

_**~ID~** _

Momoki sat at the table, drumming his fingers. He hadn't expected to come down to the interrogation room first thing. But Soma's message left while he'd been driving struck a chord.

Now he knew why. He'd never seen Fukuda so … animated? His voice was still affected by a drawl, but beneath a current seemed as if it were pushing against the dam, trying to force the words through faster.

“I'm tellin' ya, I know my dreams. I only have a few that rotate. This wasn't one of them. The place felt too detailed, like it was real. But I've never been there before. In the light of the car fire I saw a black shirt with the Kura's logo.”

“This is very interesting, Fukuda. But I have other things I should be doing.”

He leaned forward, his cuffs dragging across the table. “No wait! There was something else. It was obscenely clear.”

“What was it,” Momoki smirked, “the First Division's logo on the police car?”

“It did kinda look like a logo. A painting on an old cracked wooden panel. A horned whale leaping through a star with four points.”

Momoki grabbed his jumpsuit collar. “A fish skewered on narwhal's horn?”

Fukuda nodded. “Smiling like a happy little sacrifice. That mean something to you?”

“Holy shit …” Releasing him, he stood leaning on his hands. “You're right, that has to be a message … I know where that was. If this is the case … I know where they've been taken!”

Grabbing out his phone he dialed as fast as his fingers could, the moment there was an answer, he cut it off. “Matsuoka! I think I know where they are—don't ask, there isn't time to explain. Do you remember the warehouse from the Stitcher case?”

“ _Yeah, down by the shipyards. But it should have been torn down ages ago.”_

“Something tells me it wasn't. It was far back out of the way. I think Hondomachi and Narihisago are being held there.”

“ _That's quite a trip for a hunch, I hope this isn't a waste of time. We can't a warrant for a building that doesn't exist. Do you want me to go look?”_

Momoki looked into Fukuda's eyes, an eagerness burning there. To light that much of a fire required quite an impression … a torn Kura shirt stirring over the crackling flames … only Narihisago had worn the black shirts. “Yes,” he stated firmly. “Hurry. I have a bad feeling.”

Setting his phone down, he looked to Fukuda. “Part of me hopes your dream proves true … and part of me,” he looked at his folded hands, “ … fears that it is.”

Fukuda nodded stiffly. “The dives I've done tell me, even though this didn't have Kaeru in it … that was a desperate call for help. Something about the way it resonated.”

_**~ID~** _

The light cast an orange glow behind his closed eyes, rousing Narihisago from a restless sleep. Dawn. A shiver of dread ran through his veins.

 _Hondomachi._ Opening his eyes he found her sleeping curled against the wall, a thin sheet of sweat on her brow. It wasn't the trick of the light, she seemed flush compared to before. A slight rattle with every breath. _Is she getting sick? This isn't good at all. At least they haven't come for her yet._

She shifted, waking with a cough. Looking around she sighed. “Morning. Sleep well?”

Lying on his side, Narihisago huffed a breath. “What do you think?”

“You're breathing deeper, does it hurt less?”

“No,” he muttered, “just acclimated to it.”

Shaking her head with a weary grin, what she was about to say got stolen by a coughing fit.

He didn't say anything, just watched her with sympathy.

After she regained her breath, she gazed up at the rafters. “So, how long do you think I have?”

Silently he groaned. _Never ask that!_

The overhead door engaged. Narihisago swallowed, scrambling for a plan. Anything that could delay this seemingly inevitable fate. As much as he longed to, he couldn't rely on Kiki—that might not have actually happened. He couldn't be certain that it wasn't just wishful thinking in his head. Even if it had been real, the chances she reached Fukuda in any meaningful way were slim—not for lack of her trying.

Hondomachi already had her legs tucked beneath her, eyes locked in a determined glare at the top of the stairs. Her teeth squealed.

Through a tiny crack in her veneer it showed, she was frightened. And who wouldn't be? If there wasn't a way out of this—her fate was horrific. Victims of that nature had not been unknown to Narihisago in his time as a detective. Those crimes revealed some of the darkest aspects of humanity.

Footsteps clanked on the stairs.

A bead of cold sweat trickled down his brow. _Quick, something to stop them! Anything!_

There **was** a way. He closed his eyes. Steeling himself, he dredged it up, willing the details to the front of his mind. He'd never done this without a dive, never tried to initiate it on his own … inside a familiar clawing had already begun to build as he held the vision of Konya's hard stare demanding his compliance. Taking a deep breath, he let it out as the discomfort began. “Hondomachi … forgive me.”

When he opened his eyes, she was staring out of the corner of her eye at him. “ _What_ are you doing?”

He didn't answer. The heads of the thugs crested the stairs. They stalked past Izanagi, who still barely reacted, for all Narihisago knew he might already be dead. At the moment he had one thing on his mind, and one thing only.

Konya walked along by the railing as Tsuyoshi pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and made straight toward Hondomachi. The thug chuckled, “Come on, bitch. You're about to make a bunch of men very happy.”

Narihisago ignored his antics. _That's what you think. Not if I have anything to say about it …_ he focused on Konya, cold eyes boring into him. It took less than a minute before he had the man's attention. “Flesh is so very valuable.” Narihisago's voice was soft, hardly above a whisper, but their was an edge he engaged that normally wasn't there.

Immediately Konya reacted, his hands flexed at his side. “The price of a life is worth its pound in flesh.”

“Is that so?” No one else in the room moved, even Hondomachi seemed transfixed. “What an unusual business model to follow.”

“A fool like you wouldn't understand.”

Narihisago smiled knowingly. “Try me.”

Without a pause, Konya placed a hand to his chest, nose in the air. “I provide solutions for those in bind. People are careless with money, greedy for possessions. They fail to read the contract. It is not my fault.”

“Not your fault? You know what's in there. You know it isn't fair. Yet you have no qualms for your collection fees?”

“Certainly not. When the contract is broken—”

“The broken little boy forces them to break themselves.” He narrowed his eyes, drawing Konya up a little straighter. “That's what you live for. Seeing them kneel before you. Seeing them beg for mercy that you will not give. It's not about the money. You paid for a show, and you're going to get every ounce of entertainment you purchased out of their blood.”

He wrinkled his nose as though he were smelling some awful odor. “Certainly not. If they break their contract they get what they deserve.”

“A contract that was impossible. Don't get me wrong, I had no pity for Itoh, but— **his** impossible contract brought **us** to your hands. And here you sit, the arbiter of our fates. Interesting that you don't hand us a blade. Why is that? I had to wonder. Why pass us off? The answer was simple, staring you straight in the face.”

Konya took a step back, a flicker of worry in his eyes.

“I know I have it. I know the truth sad about you. We won't beg. We won't grovel before you in some inflated act toward your ego. That bothers you. We're supposed to be weak, we're supposed to be subservient, like your cowed cohorts. But you can't make us!”

He struck the bars of the railing with his rings. “Shut up! You're wrong!”

The raised voice betrayed the truth.

“You can't stand someone you can't control. Interesting how you never take on the victim yourself. Why is that? Then it all made sense, the rumor provided by your own henchmen. Your first _and_ last kill.”

At that Konya took a step back, gripping the railing with his other hand. The eyes of a cornered beast. He panted like a rabbit, wide-eyed and too spooked to move.

Narihisago's grin carved deeper. The claws of the monster within raking deep within, but not at him—they spared Narihisago, grinding into Konya, rending him to bits. “You were ordered to bring a man to bear, to make him profess loyalty to your father. But that man was strong-willed, outlasting your efforts to compel him. In the end before you achieved your goal and earned your father's praise, the man died at your hands. The mistake was yours, along with the shame. The solution was simple—if you never laid a hand on them again, you couldn't actually fail. Someone else would always take the blame. You're not powerful. You're just a sick twisted coward, who never grew out of being a school-yard bully having his witless lackeys do his dirty work.”

Every mention of his father drove Konya leaning farther back. Panicked tears sprang to his eyes. As he darted glances at his men, he wilted further into himself. “No … no … it's not true. Don't believe it.”

“Someone's got some serious daddy issues. Have you impressed him yet? That's not the question though, is it … can you _ever_ impress him? It's impossible, isn't it. Your impossible contract.”

Konya gripped the railing, color flushed from him. He was caught in a cyclone of his own collapsing psyche.

“Konya … There is a way out. A way that Daddy can never reach you. Prove to him that you are the master of your own destiny.”

Slowly, he looked over his shoulder. His eyes closing and opening as a weariness overcame him. He lifted his arms wide and with a sick grin on his face, leaned backward, plummeting over the railing.

THUCK!

Narihisago laid his head back with a satisfied smile on his face, awash in the pleasure of his addiction. Aww _Konya, took the last step._

After a full minute of shock, all four of the thugs ran down the stairs screaming for their boss. In their haste, Tsuyoshi dropped the key ring in his hand.

Swiftly, Hondomachi ran forward, awkwardly seizing the keys behind her back. It took a crazy dance, and a lot of finnigling, but the moment she had the first cuff loose, she flipped around and unlocked the second.

“Hurry! Get me out of these! I don't even want to think about what they'll do to me once they figure out I killed Konya”

“How do you know he's dead?”

“That was over a two story drop onto concrete.”

“Wait, we were unconscious when they brought us in, how did you know that?”

“I've been here before. We're running out of time, hurry up!”

She came around behind him, working the key into the cuff lock on his left wrist. “Shit! Something's wrong. The lock is jammed.”

Over his shoulder he suggested, “Leave it. Unlock the padlock, and the right one! They did it before, it has to work. Hurry! That shock won't last forever.”

She worked with that, remarking tensely, “I hardly believe what I heard! That was … so … twisted and dark.”

“That may have just saved your life.” One wrist now free and the cuffs loosed from the chain, he pushed up ignoring the pain in his back, only acknowledging it with a hiss.

Hondomachi worked her way under his left arm, putting it across her shoulder and helping him up into what became a human crutch. “Pride be damned, let me help you.”

“Heh,” he winced, “I don't have any pride left to be compromised.”

In a staggered hobble they made their way toward the stairs. He had to hold his left foot above the floor. Every staggering hop left him shuddering. She glanced up, “Are you—?”

“Less talk—more hustle!” He hung his head. “I don't think I can do that to the other four.”

“Speaking of which, how are we going to get past them? There's only that one stairway down.”

Narihisago reached for the railing as they approached, one more support. Desperation fueled him. “No idea … one step at a time.” And that was another part he dreaded.

The first one he dropped down with a grunt.

“Sorry.”

“Keep going!” He hissed. “Don't worry about me.” Her fingers brushed against a welt on his right shoulder. It stung miserably. But one thing overrode everything else—they had to get out of here.

Below a hasty pair of footsteps carried up the stairs. Tsuyoshi and Orochi snarled, the latter pointing and screaming. “You sick fucker! You killed him!”

“Good!” Narihisago huffed out. _Shit! They're blocking the way. We're injured and unarmed!_

The thugs launched themselves up the stairs.

To Narihisago's surprise, Hondomachi shoved him down on the stair behind her and stood protecting him. Fists up. She swung hard, and delivered a hook to Tsuyoshi sending him back into Orochi. The two recovered their feet and changed targets. Both now concentrating on her. Orochi gained the upper ground, flanking Hondomachi as she pounded on Tsuyoshi.

 _Two on one isn't fair._ Narihisago grabbed the stair rail and dragged himself up, shaking from the effort. He needed an advantage, he lacked the strength to get enough force now for a knockout. Locking the empty cuff, he tugged the bandage loose from his right wrist. Orochi wasn't paying him any mind at all.

With an enraged snarl, Narihisago leaned forward, swinging with his left hand to whip the cuff around Orochi's neck. He looped the bandage through the empty cuff and caught both ends, giving it a savage yank. As Orochi bucked, the tension across his neck cut off the air with a crunching sensation, Narihisago twisted the bandage around his fingers tightening the cuff-choke hold.

Orochi's arms flailed, trying to free himself. His fingers grasped around Narihisago's right wrist. Pain shot up his arm as the nails dug into the burned wound. He cringed, but renewed his resolve, shutting his eyes and pulling back harder. Orochi dropped to is knees, leaning back, trying to ease the pressure on his throat.

Narihisago gritted his teeth. _Three minutes! It takes three minutes to lethally cut off the air._ Already he felt the burning in his arms threatening failure. He couldn't let go, if he did Orochi would go for her! Her life depended on him not letting go!

The nails clawed, both hands gripping and kneading into his flesh. It was on fire!

Tugging harder, Narihisago felt the chain biting into Orochi's throat. Huffing each breath through clenched teeth, he had no air for threat. _Just DIE, you bastard!_ He drew up the memories of Orochi denying him air, letting it feed his rage. _Fitting way for this piece of shit to go! How do you like the receiving end, asshole?_

Orochi opened his mouth trying to draw in a breath. It didn't come. His muscles seized a couple times, then released and dropped them both backward onto the step. There was no pulse against the chain.

But it didn't matter whether there was or not. Completely spent, Narihisago's grip faltered the moment his welted back struck the cold metal. His hand went limp, releasing the ragged bandaged, slipping it from the cuff as the hand itself dropped against the step. His vision blurred. Everything felt so far away.

“Home … ,” he rasped. “I want to go home … ”

_**~ID~** _

Hondomachi's fist pounded into Tsuyoshi's face. Orochi tried to grapple her, but suddenly his hands slipped away. She didn't have time to wonder about her good fortune. The prick in front of her required all her attention.

He went for his gun, tugging it out.

With a vicious kick, she sent it into his gut, wrenching the wrist at an odd angle.

Tsuyoshi wailed out as the gun clattered through the open stairs. “How could yo—ooofff!”

Her fist slammed into his jaw. “Shut up, low life!”

He shook his head, and leaped, throwing his weight against her.

That wasn't expected, startled, and very annoyed, Hondomachi fell against the left railing slamming her injured elbow. He collided with her ramming it harder. It renewed the pain in an agonizing wave. She screamed out, the arm once again hanging useless at her side.

Tsuyoshi smiled and grabbed her wrists, pressing on her. “Did I hurt you?”

Furious, she tried to knee him.

He artfully dodged her with a grin. “Not that again.”

“Fine!” One tactic out of commission, she kicked her heel into the side of his knee.

That joint wasn't meant to bend that way. Tsuyoshi released his grip on her and howled.

That was all she needed. She brought her knee up into his chin sending him into a hard tumble down the stairs, his neck snapping on the way. “Screw you, prick!”

Behind her, a few steps higher, nothing moved. She turned around. Orochi lay sprawled across a step, a bluish color to his tongue as he stared in frozen horror at nothing at all. A massive blackened line around his neck. Underneath his fallen body, she spotted Narihisago.

Climbing up, she tugged Orochi off of him, and punted his corpse down the stairs. He rolled a few before stopping. Narihisago lay, eyes half closed, unfocused. Skin pale, much paler than before.

She knelt down beside him. “Hey, Narihisago. Come on. We have to get moving before the other two come.” Those bruisers would prove troublesome.

Out of the corner of her eye she spied red. Flung out, his right hand lay palm up, a steady flow of blood seeping between savage nail streaks—that had torn the burned incision on his wrist wide open. The flow marked his pulse.

“No!” She screamed and wrapped her fingers around the wound, holding the limb up. She struggled to staunch the bleeding. It continued to stubbornly seep. No matter how tight she gripped, the blood welled between his fingers. “Don't you dare die on me now! Hang on! You have to live! Narihisago please—answer me!”


	13. Chapter 13

Matsuoka opened his car door, stepping out onto the gravel. The air was crisp collecting each breath in short-lived clouds as he huddled into his trench coat. He couldn't believe his eyes. The damn ramshackle warehouse still stood, a stone's throw from the dock, which had rotted away leaving only the wooden pylon skeleton behind. He remembered shoving Narihisago off that dock into the water after a stern lecture. This old place, the Stitcher's secret laboratory. His stomach turned as he recalled the putrid odor of the animal waste mixed with the stink of the abandoned fishery. And that was just in the building itself. Nearby there had once been the cargo containers, modified to house his human test patients. Thankfully, those had been hauled away as evidence and never returned.

_That was one twisted son of a bitch. But still, this place should have been leveled._

Far in the corner of the shipping yards, this building was only reachable by a twisted road through the main shipyards. 

Yokota closed the passenger door, eyeing the building. “This is it?”

Distantly, Matsuoka nodded, reaching down to check his gun. “This is where the apparent intel points to. Tell me you're armed?”

He produced his own firearm and checked it. “Always when on duty. Mag is full.”

“Good. Just in case.”

Yokota came around beside him. “Hey, it sounded like you knew this place when you were on the phone.”

“I did.” He cocked an eyebrow, _are those fresh tire tracks?_ “Some years ago this was a major crime scene. Never thought I'd see it again.” He held up a hand for silence and knelt down. It was subtle, but there was indeed a disturbance in the gravel forming recent ruts. Droplets of oil down the center undisturbed from the storm a couple nights back. Even the seal on the door had been broken, spider webs with leaves clinging to them collected unnaturally up in the corners. With a hushed voice, Matsuoka pointed, “Someone's been here.”

Offering a nod, Yokota delivered a few hand signals.

That earned the detective a grin. It felt just like the old days. Matsuoka nodded in agreement. Guns drawn, safety on, they crept along the side of the building heading for the main door. A quick glance inside at the darkness told him nothing. The windows too grimy, the light too poor. 

He reached for the door knob with a gloved hand. It was locked.  _This is problematic._

Yokota leaned in closer, whispering, “Do we have warrant?”

Matsuoka shook his head. This was quite the dilemma. This place shouldn't exist. But tire tracks and oil drops were not a justifiable reason to force entry. They needed a better reason.

THUCK!

They both ducked down, evading the windows.  _What in the hell was that?_

He held his breath, peering through the window he could barely make out the outline of a car. Inside the building a rushed cascade of footsteps, a flurry of motion toward the back of the building. Four figures in shadows approached something vaguely human shaped on the ground. A beam of sunlight caught a patch of something red.

Matsuoka stared at what he was certain was a body. The four figures grabbed and shifted it frantically between them. None of them were Narihisago or Hondomachi. “Yokota, call in for backup. Full—looks like we might need medics … or a coroner.”

Moving away from the building while keeping out of sight, Yokota rushed the call through to dispatch before returning to Matsuoka's side. “They'll be here in five.”

Gritting his teeth, Matsuoka snarled. “Five?” He silently cursed. They couldn't just sit and wait here. Something was clearly going on inside and the clock was ticking. Nerves wracked, he flicked the safety of his gun off and on in rapid succession.  _Are they in there? Is Hondomachi alright? Has that wretched bastard laid a hand on her? How can I sit out here and wait for backup to arrive!_

Inside two of the figures turned on their heels and raced up the stairs.

Something was going on. _Patience be damned! This is enough probable cause!_

Safety off, he backed up and shoulder rammed the door down. The old dry-rotted wood splintered off the hinges. Racing in he didn't look back, locked right on the remaining pair.

They turned as he rushed them. Two burly thugs, already shocked to hell to begin with, froze, eyes flicking between the figure at their feet in a gigantic blood spatter and the gun in Matsuoka's hands.

“Hands up, now! Not going to repeat myself!”

Immediately, they complied.

Matsuoka kept his gun trained on them, barking out. “Don't even try to move!” From here he glimpsed their tattoos marking them as yakuza. Yokota read his mind and dashed forward, cuffing the two thugs and pulling their firearms. “Names?”

Still looking wide-eyed toward the mass on the floor they spoke distractedly, “Kenta”

“Ryota.”

“Who was that?” He pointed to the broken mass in a dress suit, between the blown seams the body suit tattoo showed.

They swallowed, neither wanting to answer.

Matsuoka growled. “His name!”

Kenta flinched first. “Konya. Our boss, Yuu Konya.”

“What happened here?”

Ryota spat out hysterically, “He fell from up there. One minute he was standing there, the next … he fell!” His eyes widened to the sound of something tumbling down the stairs. A body rolled to a stop at the base, bruised and battered the neck at a wrong angle. “Tsuyoshi!”

Matsuoka narrowed his eyes. “What the heck is going on?” He was cut short as another tumbled halfway down. The head jammed against the rail staring downward. A dark bruise across the neck, eyes wide.

Kenta cringed, “Orochi!”

From above a frantic cry caught his attention, “Narihisago please—answer me!”

 _What the hell!_ Rising to his feet, Matsuoka snapped over his shoulder, “Yokota, keep an eye on them.” He dashed round the railing, shoes slapped the metal staircase. Halfway up he spotted her back a few steps from the top. She was kneeling over something. “Hondomachi!” It did nothing to turn her. He poured all his effort to his speed, she was alive! Her left arm hung at a strange angle, her clothing torn, patches of road rash beneath. A slight glimpse as she turned her head revealed a puffy blackened eye.

That was all he had sight of as she fussed over something. She was alive! Racing up to her, he grabbed her shoulder and tried to turn her. “Hondomachi! Are you alright?”

She resisted his effort, leaning forward, and holding fast. Her fingers were drenched with blood, eyes panicked. “Stop! Stop bleeding, damn it! You've made it this far, I'll be damned if you're gonna die now.”

His own blood ran cold. The object of her fretting—she was grasping Narihisago's right wrist, the blood pooling through her fingers. He lay on his back across the open grated stair, pale with eyes unfocused, rasping each breath. The man was a wreck, one discolored eyelid nearly swollen shut a goose-egg on the left side of his head and a scab at the center. His clothing was torn with only a vague memory of once being a white jumpsuit, a mixture of road grime and blood soiled it. A quick glance to the other end of the step and he spied the busted ankle at an unhealthy angle, the foot swollen and discolored worse than his eyelid.

Matsuoka narrowed his eyes finding it hard to dredge up any sympathy. _This man is a serial killer._

“Narihisago! Say something!” Hondomachi begged.

It was a faint whisper, barely above a breath, “ … home … ”

“Keep talking! Don't close your eyes! You have to stay with me!”

Grabbing her shoulder firmer, Matsuoka tried to tug her back. “Come away … ” She was warm, feverishly warm. The fever burned bright in her eyes. “Hondomachi, you're sick.”

She pulled out of his grip. “He's bleeding to death! Help him! We have to stop the blood. Matsuoka, do something!”

“The scumbag isn't worth saving!”

“He kept me alive! Kept me going. He wouldn't let them take me. Do something!”

He gritted his teeth, watching for a moment as her fingers fought a losing battle. Her waning grip wasn't strong enough. He needed a tourniquet. Matsuoka's anger blazed, but her pleading cut through. With a curse, he unbuckled his belt and cinched it around Narihisago's forearm yanking it tight and running the end over the railing tying it off so it elevated the limb and kept the pressure on. It slowed to a trickle now. “There. You can let go now.”

She released her death grip, now her bloodied hand rested on the center of his chest. “Narihisago. Talk to me. You have to stay conscious. Say something, anything.”

“ … I want … to go … home … ” Each word was a forced whisper. His eyes would barely open. “I'm going … to see them … Muku … ” They clenched closed as he whimpered, “ … Ayako … ”

Matsuoka's jaw dropped.

“You know that name.” Hondomachi turned to him, searching. “Who was Ayako?”

The fire in Matsuoka dwindled to a shameful ember. “Ayako … was his wife.” He stared at the gash on Narihisago's wrist before he shut his own eyes. “Days after their daughter was beaten to death by the Challenger, Narihisago returned home from work to find her dead. She was … a suicide—she'd cut her wrists open.”

Hondomachi inhaled sharply. She took his left hand, the set of cuffs hung down from his bruised wrist. “Hold on. Stay with me. I'm not letting you slip away.”

Narihisago's mouth moved, “ … let … me … die … ” His eyes were entirely unfocused.

“Yokota!” Matsuoka called down, “Send the EMTs up as soon as they get here!”

“Will do!”

He turned back to her, a hand on her shoulder. “Hondomachi, you have to understand … ”

Firmly she declared, “He's going to be alright.”

He grunted, unconvinced. A minute later he heard Yokota sending the medic up. Looking over his shoulder, he tugged again. “Ok, time to get out of the way.”

Hondomachi tried to cling to Narihisago. Her fingers slipped, releasing the hand as Matsuoka held her to him if only to keep her from racing back into the way.

The EMT knelt down in her place getting a quick glance. He took the pulse. “Phew, well, that's a plus.” He pressed the mic strapped to his shoulder, “Gonna need the board for this one.” Swiftly he set an IV in Narihisago's left arm, injecting a few meds along with the fluid bag. Stabilizers to buy precious time.

In Matsuoka's grip, Hondomachi's feverish body squirmed. Worry in her eyes. He tried to make her face him, but she refused. “You never answered, are you ok?”

She shook her head, but refused to say more.

A second EMT rushed up with a large strapped board. By then the first had wrapped a bandage around the wrist before carefully untethering the belt tourniquet from the railing. He left it engaged with enough pressure to cut the flow. Carefully he and the second EMT splinted the battered ankle. As they went to move the board under him, they withdrew their hands at the sticky fluid from his back. “What the … ”

Hondomachi's eyes half hooded, her voice trembled, “They tortured him, whipped him repeatedly with a belt. Tried to force him comply, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't do it. No matter what they did—he wouldn't!”

The second EMT glanced at her. “Hey, you need to come with us too. Uhh, what's his name, do you know it?”

“Akihito Narihisago.”

Matsuoka leaned forward. “Take him to the Kura.”

They stared at him, deer in headlights. “The Kura?”

“He's an inmate there. We have a good medical ward. I'll call ahead and advise them.”

“Ehh, ok. Narihisago, we're gonna try to do this as gently as we can. Just stay with us, stay conscious.” As they eased Narihisago onto the board. Lying on his side the numerous tears in his shirt revealed open sores weeping a pinkish fluid, a gash on the side of his neck looked similar. “I need you to stay conscious, talk to me.”

Narihisago barely even tried, his eyes drifting closed.

“Nope. Stay with me. What's your name?”

“Aaa … Aki … hito.” He could only mouth the rest as they carried the board down the stairs, pelting him with questions. Matsuoka couldn't tell is he was trying to answer.

Hondomachi moved to follow, almost trance like.

“Can you walk?” Matsuoka held her up.

She nodded, wobbling a bit. A coughing fit wracked her until she tumbled against him.

“Alright, you've had enough.” Hefting her into his grip she sank into it, he cradled her down the stairs. Her left elbow was obviously dislocated, a large goose egg hidden in her hair. Every breath was a tight rasp, he felt it rattle against his chest. “It's ok. They're gonna take you to the Kura. The doctors there will get you all fixed up.”

At the back of the ambulance he handed her over to them. “Take good care of Koharu Hondomachi. She's a fighter, she'll pull through.”

The doors closed and with the light blaring, the ambulance sped off.

Dialing, he waited for the answer, “Kokufu. I'm sending them straight to the Kura. Have the medical staff on alert.”

“ _They were there? You recovered them?”_

“Yes. The EMTs are stabilizing them in the ambulance along the way.”

“ _Stabilizing? What happened?”_

“Tell Momoki he was right.” His hand tightened. “They _were_ being held … by yakuza.”

A cold fury burned in his veins. Turning, he dashed back into the building and stormed up to Ryota and Kenta still under guard. Grabbing Kenta by the collar he glared him in the eyes. “You're gonna tell me what happened here, and you're gonna tell me now!”

_**~ID~** _

Fukuda laid on his back in bed, one leg propped on the other. After being brought back to his cell he'd sat there for a while before realizing, “This is ridiculous. They're not gonna tell a guy like me anything.”

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted someone outside the door. With a sigh, he dragged himself up to the edge of the bed. No point in rushing anything life in prison was glacial pace. “Must be breakfast …” he stopped and stared, “ … huh?”

It wasn't a guard with a tray. Well, it was a guard, just not breakfast. It was Soma, standing outside the door with an expression somewhere between a smile and shock. “They've been recovered.”

Leaning back on his arms, Fukuda attempted to look more cavalier than he was. _Really? Both of them? No way!_ “Well now, isn't that interesting. And were there in that place in my weird ass dream?”

Soma nodded, his eyes still wide. “They were. You did it. You were responsible for the break in the case.”

“Somehow I just knew that was a message from Narihisago.”

“I only caught a few details as Momoki sent me to tell you.”

He blinked slowly. “He did? Well that was nice of him. So, soon I won't be staring at an empty cell across the way anymore.”

The excitement faded as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uhhhh, might be a while before that changes.”

“Wait, Narihisago's coming back _here_ , right? Right?”

Pulling off his cap he glanced to the ceiling. “From what I heard, he's going straight to the medical ward. They're prepping for surgery right now.”

Leaning forward on his elbows, Fukuda frowned. “That's not so good. Is Mr. Anger Issues gonna be ok?”

Soma shrugged. “They're still en route. I don't think anyone knows at this point.”

Fukuda hung his head, muttering as Soma walked away, “I finally decide to cooperate and it may be for all for nothing? Damn it. Just my luck.”


	14. Chapter 14

Matsuoka glared down at the chains shackled to the exposed beam. _So this is where they were kept. Damn! Two instances now this building has been used to house human beings like animals._ For the moment he let it slide that counted Narihisago as human. Hondomachi's cries still echoed in his ears shifting the line he had drawn so many years ago. He knelt down and snapped photos of the evidence, cringing when he spied the blood lining the cuffs. _Those must have been hers, he still had his on one of his wrists._

A chill breeze whipped through the rusted holes in the panels. No blanket, no power, no light source, no heat. Nothing would have spared them from exposure to the elements. According to the thugs down there neither of them had been fed—four days without food and only minimal water.

 _And she was still on her feet, fighting._ “Damn, she is a tough one.”

“Hey, Matsuoka? I think this guy over here must be Izanagi, that one they wanted your inmate to assassinate.”

He looked over his shoulder, Yokota examined a man ziptied to an old ratty office chair. With a gloved finger he placed a finger to the man's neck. Drawing it away he shook his head. “Guy's frozen solid. No pulse. No breathing. Looks like they didn't need your friend to do it.”

“He's not my friend.” Matsuoka snapped.

“Ah, ok. My mistake.” Yokota nudged his glasses up his nose with the back of his hand.

Downstairs the uniformed officers worked on cataloging the rest of the evidence. Kenta and Ryota were now in their care.

Matsuoka wandered the loft until he stood below the hook, recalling what the thugs had told him. He crouched down. Spatters on the grating fresh enough to fit their story. They were telling the truth. Just beyond that was the spot of the railing where Konya would have gone over.

He took the chain without the cuffs and pulled it as far as it would go. Not even halfway to the railing. He dropped it with a clatter, running his hand through his hair. “That damned bastard did it again. I have no doubt in my mind.”

“Did what?” Yokota wandered over, looking around and trying to piece together what was going on. “Picked a lock? I saw the EMT's carry him out. He looked pretty thrashed.”

“He was, but that's not what I'm talking about. There was no way this chain allowed him to reach that railing. Just like down in the cell block, he could never physically reach the other prisoners. But he didn't have to. Not him. Narihisago just needs to be in ear shot of them. This means … shit … Hondomachi watched the scumbag do it!”

“Uhhh, not quite following. Wait … does this have to do with what those two were babbling about?”

Matsuoka clenched a fist. “Yes. It has everything to do with it. That wasn't just a story they were telling. The piece of shit can actually pull that move off.”

“Kill … with his voice? I find that very hard to believe.”

Staring him in the eye, Matsuoka folded his arms. “Tell that to the fellow inmates he did it to. He's such a perceptive profiler that he can dissect the psyche and weaponize it, turning it inward like some sick game. He claims he can't control it.” Staring down at the splatter on the concrete floor he huffed a breath. “There's the proof he's lying—he can.”

Yokota stood at the railing and swallowed. “I can see why you didn't want him getting away.”

“He's back in prison where scum like him belongs.” He pushed off from the railing and stalked across the floor. “Welcome to the Kura's dirty secret. Remember, you're sworn to secrecy.”

_**~ID~** _

Momoki's knee bounced up and down in an endless cycle. The moment the office door opened, he snapped a glance.

Kokufu walked into his own office with two cups of coffee, handing one over. “Figured you could use this. Looks like it'll be a long day.”

Taking a deep gulp of it, Momoki barely tasted it, but the warmth helped. “Is there an update?”

“Several.” He sat down and pulled out his phone. “Matsuoka's been sending updates of the investigation. Photos of the evidence and a quick summary of what the two remaining thugs told him. They are now in First Division custody. It is doubtful either of them were the owners of the wells, which means they don't fall under our jurisdiction.”

“Ok, then who did the wells belong to?”

“Likely two of the three deceased on the scene.”

Momoki raised a brow. “Two of three?”

Kokufu held up a hand. “I'm not jumping to any conclusions. We'll need to wait until we can talk to Hondomachi to get a better idea of what happened. That won't be for a while now. From the looks of things they weren't treated well at all. We're lucky they were found alive. There was another captive who wasn't.”

“Shit!”

“Not the worst of it.” Kokufu bowed his head. “I've got an update from the medical ward.”

Heart pounding, Momoki leaned forward.

“Hondomachi is out of surgery. They had to reattach ligaments in her left elbow. Apparently the car crash dislocated it. She must have put it back in, but it seems like it was wrenched back out of joint again. After that heals she'll have extensive physical therapy to get range of motion and restrengthen it. But before that begins, she is fending off a serious case of pneumonia. The only good news there is the inflammation was caught early. Fortunately her concussion wasn't serious, nor are any of the abrasions of cuts she had. Those should heal with some tending. None-the-less, she'll be in their care for a bit.”

“You had me a bit worried. That doesn't sound so bad.” Momoki took a sip of the coffee. “And Narihisago?”

His eyes closed tighter. “That's … less promising.”

Sitting up straighter, he blinked. “What? What is it?”

“Narihisago is still in surgery, and will be for at least a few more hours … ” Kokufu shook his head. “Don't lose it! Listen to me. His life is not threatened anymore, as it was when the ambulance pulled up. The first thing Araya had to do was close up a vein in his wrist that had been torn open during a fight on the stairs with their captors. That wrist was a mess from the chip extraction, but he was able to reinsert a new one in the process of cleaning all that up. Due to bandage changes, there won't be an option for an amplifier bracelet until that heals. He theorized that when they'd taken them hostage at the crash site and cut his chip out they must have weakened the vessel wall. It held til they were forced into the scuffle. Thankfully it wasn't an artery, or he'd be dead. The skin around it was hard to work with. It had been burned, as if cauterized.”

Momoki cringed, his hands gripped the coffee cup just for something to hold.

“I wish that was all. But, he sustained a decent concussion in the crash and it was obvious at a later time he cut his forehead open. I am guessing this was … his usual. The EMT's discovered his back had been whipped repeatedly, likely by a leather belt. According to Matsuoka, Hondomachi mentioned this before he carried her down the stairs. They had tried to force Narihisago to comply, to use _his_ way to kill the man they were holding captive—which means they knew what he was capable of.”

“Did he?” His heart thudded in his ears.

Kokufu's gaze faltered before he nodded. “Not their intended target. Instead Narihisago targeted their leader, Yuu Konya, into throwing himself over the railing.”

A pit opened in Momoki's gut. “No … he couldn't have … without a dive? This isn't possible!”

“There is a man with a split skull and two witnesses who prove otherwise.”

“Kokufu! He can't!” Momoki stood, hands planted on the desk. “No … you know what this means!”

He lowered his eyes. “He's a greater risk than ever to work with. You know his temper.”

“He wouldn't hurt us!”

With a somber smile, Kokufu shook his head. “I'm not so certain now. This situation? You do realize it's our fault. They never would have gotten their hands on him if we hadn't pushed for that test, transported him out of the facility. And now—he might be a cripple.”

“What?”

“During the crash his ankle shattered, his foot caught in the wreckage and partially crushed. It's the reason he's still in surgery. Araya nearly opted for an amputation. But he's decided to at least try reconstructing the bones. Word is he's running out of hardware trying to piece the bones back together.”

It sunk in slowly, Momoki hung his head. “How long will he be in recovery?”

“Unknown. The deeper question is, will he even _consider_ cooperating with us ever again.”

Momoki wanted to answer that immediately. He wanted to pound his fist on the desk with a certain reply … but instead he stared at his open hand. “What have we done?”

Kokufu's hand rested on his shoulder. He hadn't even noticed him come around. “We tried to help never imagining this would happen. It seemed unthinkable that anyone outside of here could have possibly known what he was capable of, most don't know he even exists. I'm sorry, I know that's not helping, but it's true. For right now we have to work with what we know. If you're up to it, I'd like you to talk with Hondomachi when she wakes. See if we can't get a better picture of what happened. Remember, she's got a decent fever still, though hopefully the antibiotics in her IV will kick in soon and start helping. Don't stress her out. She's been through a lot.”

“When should I go down?”

Kokufu pointed to his phone. “They'll call me. For now, just try to relax.”

Swallowing a gulp of the coffee, he stared down into the cup. “Easier said than done.”

_**~ID~** _

Sitting propped up in the hospital bed, she looked worse than he'd imagined. Then again, he had to keep in mind she'd only emerged from anesthesia a short while ago, likely the main reason her usual excessive energy was sapped.

Momoki sat in the bedside chair leaning on his elbows trying to force a confident smile. This wasn't the room she'd be staying in, just here for observation. The nurses lingered right outside the door.

Hondomachi was awake, blinking slowly, unevenly. Her blackened left eye sluggish. Every breath she took was measured, rattling in her chest. He'd been waiting for her recover from the coughing fit he had entered on. Her complexion was pale, the oxygen stat on the monitor showing she was struggling. Not alarmingly so, but enough to make a marked difference. A sling held her arm in place, the cast peaking out of the edge.

“Welcome back.” His voice sounded too cheery, even to him. “Sorry it took us so long to find you two.” When she didn't respond he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Ok, I guess.” There was no strength to her voice.

“Good.” He almost cringed at the automatic response that came out. Softer, he replied, “I know you're probably really exhausted right now, but is there anything you want to tell me about what happened?”

She sniffled through a stuffy nose, her bruised gaze wandering his way. “You want to know what happened?” Her right hand curled into a fist, a bandage around the wrist.

“Easy. Stay calm.”

“You have no idea what we went through, Momoki.” Her voice was a low growl. “No idea!”

He leaned back in the chair glancing at the monitor tracking her heart rate. “Ms. Hondomachi, please, it's really important for your health that you not stress yourself.”

“Stress myself? What kind of a joke is that? These last days Narihisago and I were treated like animals! We had to literally fight for our lives. They beat Narihisago so savagely that on the stairs after he saved my life he begged, all he wanted was to see his wife and daughter again. I know you are aware what that actually means, I can see it in your eyes. Before that, I had to crawl onto his lap for warmth to combat hypothermia because those assholes tried to drown Narihisago and when they were finished they threw the bucket of seawater on me before they left!” Her raw voice crackled, threatening another coughing fit.

“That explains the pneumonia.” He held up a hand. “But you're safe now. And you'll be well in no time.”

“Don't patronize me.” She grumbled. “Did you even notice someone from the staff was missing? Where's Itoh?”

That caught his attention. “How did you know he was missing?”

“Because he's the dick who sold Narihisago out to pay some debt and had me taken as an additional prize!”

“What? But he's the head of security!” The gears slammed into overdrive. _They had known what Narihisago could do. Holy shit! That's how!_ “Where is he now? Do you know?”

Before she could answer a coughing fit seized her, and it didn't stop after a few. The nurse rushed to her side as another grabbed Momoki and shoved him out the door, closing it behind him.

He stared through the small observation window, at a loss, only half the story. Taking out his phone he heaved a sigh. “Kokufu. I have bad news. I know who the leak was.”


	15. Chapter 15

The request still lingered in Momoki's ears, _We think it would be good for someone he trusts to be in the room talking to him when he comes to. Just try to keep him calm, let him know where he is._

Someone he trusts, did he even qualify for that anymore. Where he was. From the bedside chair Momoki shook his head.

Narihisago lay on his right side, still under the effects of the anesthesia. Before Momoki had been brought in he'd come out of it enough they were confident he could breathe on his own, they'd been able to pull the ventilator. A long chained set of cuffs, usually used on an inmate's ankles, secured his left wrist to the bed rail behind him, loose enough they could easily tend the bandage around that wrist. It was a protocol after all, he was an inmate outside of his cell even if right now there wasn't a chance in hell he could get up.

His right wrist had a brace, and it lay elevated against the pillow by his head. A strip of gauze held the amplifier to his forearm. They'd found a way to boost the signal so they could get a solid read on his vitals. Until his wrist healed, they couldn't clamp a bracelet on him. For now a quick glance at the monitor told Momoki he was running a low grade fever, that matched the chest cold they'd mentioned. Each breath was slightly audible, a sign of the congestion.

His head had been wrapped in bandages. A deep blackish purple bruise encompassed his left eye. They hadn't put a shirt on him. He could see why, beneath the covers his entire torso looked to be swathed in gauze all the way up to his neck. They would only have to remove the garment for the frequent tending of his wounds. Momoki had seen photos of the welts. He didn't need any more agitation than what was necessary.

A wide sling hung down from a top rail over the bed. It served to elevate Narihisago's heavily bandaged ankle. A glimpse of his toes between the wrappings reminded Momoki of ripe red grapes in both shape and color. He could only guess how much had gone into the hours of surgery required to put that mess back together again. The pre-surgical photos he had seen lingered in his mind.

Narihisago's breathing shifted, catching a bit. He was coming out of it.

As the fingers on his left hand began to twitch, Momoki leaned forward gently grasping his hand. He kept his voice to a soft whisper, “Narihisago. It's me. It's Momoki. You're safe. Try not to move much. You're back at the Kura now, waking up from surgery. This is really important, you have to lie still.”

It seemed like forever, repeating the same phrases over and over again, trying to carefully hold Narihisago still as he twitched and shifted.

“Easy. You're alright.” Momoki winched and corrected himself. “You'll _be_ alright.” That was closer to the truth, though he shuddered to think it might not be the truth.

Sluggishly, Narihisago opened his eyes. At first he wasn't tracking anything, just lying there, staring as he breathed slowly. Then, with his head still, an inch at a time his gaze wandered around.

“Just don't try to move.” Momoki kept his gentle grip on the hand. Warm, a touch too warm. The grip tightened in a feeble effort at some unknown goal. “Hey now, take it easy.”

Narihisago took in a long slow breath. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, “Ho … Hon … do … ma … machi … ”

He sat up a bit straighter. That was his first concern? “She's … she's in another room here. She's going to be ok.”

Relief washed over his features. The tension left his hand as he shut his eyes, just breathing. That alone seemed enough of an effort.

Momoki heaved a sigh. “You don't have to talk right now. They said it would be best if you didn't do much of anything.”

“Mo … mo … ki,” only his right cracked open, “you're … babbling.”

He laughed nervously. “Sorry. I just, I'm worried because … because of what Hondomachi mentioned.”

He thought beneath the bandages Narihisago's brow furrowed as the groggy eye watched him.

Momoki leaned in a bit closer. “Did you want to die?”

The fingers briefly tightened in his grip before Narihisago dug the right side of his face deeper into the pillow. That was enough of an answer.

“Akihito … no … ”

He took a shaky breath. “You still … have no … tact.”

Araya trudged through the door, baggy eyed with his hair a frazzled mess. It seemed incredulous that he was even on his feet. “Good, you're awake. Sorry to interrupt. I'll keep this short. How are you feeling?”

Narihisago shifted his weary gaze to the doctor, blinking slowly before he muttered, “Like I'm going … to puke.”

“Normal. That would be the anesthesia. We had you under pretty deep. But don't worry, there's nothing in your stomach to come up.”

“ ... comforting ...”

Araya tapped the screen on the IV pump, coding something in. “There, give that a bit to kick in and it should help. In case you haven't figured it out, you're going to be here for a while. I just have two things I need to check and then I'll leave you to rest.” He pointed to the splinted wrist. “That hack job they did on you was awfully close to tendons and nerves. I don't want you to do much movement, but if you could try to shift each of your fingers a bit. I need to make sure there wasn't any severe nerve or tendon damage. Take your time.”

Half opening his eyes, Narihisago looked at his hand for a minute before he grimaced and one at a time the fingers sticking out of the brace shifted ever so slightly. It seemed like some Herculean task.

As the last one moved, Araya held up a hand. He was being uncharacteristically patient. “Good. That's all I needed to see. For now, just let it rest. After it heals enough we'll start some physical therapy.”

Narihisago rasped a sigh, obviously not thrilled with that prospect.

Moving to the foot of the bed, Araya offered an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry I have to ask this. But … I'm sure you know the damage to your foot was severe.”

Narihisago visibly tensed, beads of sweat forming below the bandage on is head.

“Again, I don't need much movement. Just enough to know that we're getting a signal. A quick twitch of your toes. As before, take you time. I know there is no way this won't hurt.”

Narrowing his eyes, Narihisago's breathing hitched a bit. He was gritting his teeth a full minute before he took a deep breath. Momoki watched a slight curl of the bandages accompanied by a jerk of the sling. Narihisago instantly recoiled, shoving his face into the pillow as he barely bit back an anguished cry, his grip on Momoki's hand tightened not enough strength left in him to make it painful.

Holding out a hand, Araya frantically called out, “That's enough! That's all I needed to see. Good news, there was movement. That means the procedure may have worked after all. In time we'll be able to see how well closer to when we can remove all that hardware. But that's not for now.”

Narihisago panted. The monitor marked an increase in his pulse. A very understandable one.

“I'm done. It will be some time before we do anything but wound care. All you have to do is lie there and get some rest. Ok?” Araya gestured to one of the nurses and whispered in her ear. After a brief conversation he told her with a yawn, “I'm going to get some sleep now. Please call whoever is on staff.”

“Of course.” She walked up to the bedside computer and typed a few things in, making some adjustments.

Barely paying her any mind, Momoki watched as Narihisago's eyes slowly blinked, unfocused as he lay there. “Hey, you want me to go now?” It was a question he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

When there wasn't a reaction he suggested, “Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

The response was slow, but to his surprise he deliberately blinked twice.

Patting his hand he nodded. “Ok. I'll be right here.”

There would be time to discuss what happened later. For now he hoped the fact that Narihisago hadn't kicked him out was a sign he wasn't completely furious. An ember, however faint, of hope burned.


	16. Chapter 16

There wasn't much to do besides stare at the back of his eyelids. At least that's what Narihisago concluded. He drifted in and out of sleep on a medicated tide. Fortunately they'd dialed in the pain meds well enough that so as long as he didn't move his ankle it wasn't too bad. By some miracle blessing it was mostly dreamless.

Mostly …

Dragged down into a deeper sleep he opened his eyes onto the familiar endless horizon. Granted his connection felt a little tenuous here. Glancing down he seemed slightly transparent. “Heh, that's kinda weird.”

Kiki approached slowly, her eyes narrowed with concentration. “It's hard to reach you. Though—not as hard as before.”

Stretching out a hand to her he smiled as she came into his embrace. He had enough substance in this strange dreamworld to feel her. Resting his head against the top of hers he smiled. “You did it. You got the message to Fukuda.”

Her grip increased. “You're back?”

“I am. But it's going to be a long while before I can dive again.”

Shifting back, she looked up at him, cocking her head. “Why what's wrong?”

He stroked her hair, combing the strands with his right hand. At least here he wasn't a mess. “I got some healing to do out there. But I'm in good hands.”

Realization dawned. “That's why I can't get you all the way here. Are you alright?”

A tough question to answer. He grimaced and looked away from her, at length offering a shrug. “I can't lie to you. I honestly don't know … no one will know for a while. If you have trouble reaching me it's probably because the meds are interfering. I'm on a pretty good dose of _something_ at the moment.”

The soft contact felt so welcoming. They sank down into the ankle deep endless flood gazing at the colorful sky reflected all around them. Kiki leaned backward against his chest as Akihito wrapped an arm gently around her shoulders, his fingers toying with her hair. She took his hand in hers, her thumb rubbing the back of his hand.

“You can stay here as long as you want.” Her grip strengthened. “I mean it, you are the only one I can reach like this. I tried to reach Fukuda, but all I could manage was to warp his dream. It must have worked.”

“From what I gathered through Momoki, it did. The moment Fukuda told him about the logo he knew the place. Thankfully that case made quite an impression on both of us.”

Quietly she nestled against him, tracing a pattern on the back of his hand. “Tell me about it.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and began. “It was our first case as detectives, it all started with a woman walking her dog in a field … ”

_**~ID~** _

Even before Narihisago opened his eyes he knew that someone was seated beside his bed. It was strange, the presence was too intense to be Momoki. Doctor Araya, the few times he'd popped in, had been rather quiet, hardly doing more of a disruption then checking the monitors. Apparently he was serious when he said they weren't going to do much. That was a blessing in disguise, Narihisago learned the first time they changed his bandages. He'd nearly blacked out as they tugged them loose, taking scabs in the process. At least whatever salve they used numbed it afterward. But he didn't like the expressions of those involved. They didn't have to cringe.

By familiarity of the breathing pattern he knew this wasn't a nurse either.

Cracking his eyes it took a moment, and a yawn, before he could focus enough on the gruff mug glaring through his glasses, arms crossed. Matsuoka looked like someone positively sickened, forced to do something against his will just shy of gun point.

Then again, he **was** sitting in Narihisago's room. That explained everything.

Narihisago's first attempt to speak resulted in a short coughing fit. Nothing too severe, but enough to take his breath for a moment. Once he regained it, he gave a sour smile. “Where's Momoki?”

Scowling, Matsuoka glanced out the door. “I sent him to get something to eat. He's been in here too long,” he dropped his voice to just above a whisper, “wasting his time.”

With a sigh, Narihisago remarked, “Come here to gawk?”

“No. I've never been a fan of zoos.”

That was supposed to be a dig. “Which is why you never bothered to come down to the cell block and mock me. It's alright. I know full well what you think of me. You've never concealed it, right from the beginning.”

He lifted his lip. “You've only gotten worse.”

Shifting his left hand, the long chain of the cuffs clanked. “You don't have to check. It's locked tight. And with this … ” he shifted the braced wrist, “as it is I won't be up to any mischief.”

The attempt at humoring him failed to produce more than a scowl.

“Why are you here?”

Once more his gaze drifted out toward the hall. “Don't know why, but she wants me to get an update directly from you on how you're doing. It seems Momoki is sugar coating it with her, and even drugged up she can tell.”

Narihisago laughed softly. “Sounds like him.”

“Well?” He eyed him. “What should I tell her?”

“She's really worried about me?”

Nodding, his scowl increased. “I don't understand why, but yes.”

With a long sigh, he blinked slowly. “The truth is I'm thrashed. If we hadn't gotten out when we did … I don't think there would have been even a chance. Heh, you're probably enjoying the show sitting there.”

Matsuoka looked away. To his surprise there was a flicker of conflict as his eyebrow twitched. “She said you saved her life.”

“We saved one another, really. When the sun went down the temperature dropped. If we hadn't slept together—”

“What!” He rounded, slamming a hand on the bed rail. “You sick twisted—”

Narihisago shifted backward, hissing a bit as it tugged on his injuries. “Calm down! That came out wrong. For warmth! We huddled together for warmth. Seesh! Our hands were cuffed behind our backs, that wouldn't have been possible at all. I wouldn't have done that anyway.”

“Tsh!”

“Matsuoka, I'm the first to admit that I'm ill. And I not referring to this chest cold. There's something seriously wrong with me.”

“Understatement.”

He sighed. “Fair, all things considered.”

“Considering what you did to Konya.”

“Konya?” Narihisago snorted a breath. “You gonna have sympathy for that bastard? You do know that he had been in the process of handing her over to the human trafficking ring. They had started unlocking her to take her away. I did it to keep that from happening.”

“You did it without a dive. How long have you been able to do that?”

“Honestly didn't know I could. I had to take a risk. Let her vanish into an underground system where she would be broken and abused as a toy, or push Konya to what he deserved for all the lives he's effected. There was no other way I could reach him. And if I failed … they'd just kill me.”

Matsuoka's eyes softened, edged with confusion. “You didn't care about that?”

“Only what would happen to her if I failed.”

Leaning in closer he took off his glasses. “Have I been wrong about you all along?”

Narihisago offered a weary smile. “Don't ask me. You're the only one who knows the answer to that.”

“Hondomachi trusts you for some reason. She flat out scolded me, told me I'd been blinded by prejudice. I figured it was the medicine talking.”

“Or,” he lifted his left hand, the chain of the cuff clanked, “days of relying on another revealed a side of me you would never admit existed. Matsuoka, why do I dive? Why do I go in and face death repeatedly? Why do I not tell Momoki when he's pushing things and we should probably stop?”

Matsuoka's head slowly shook.

“Think … what drives me?”

All he could manage was a stare.

“I won't deny that I have become a killer, that I suffer from a serious inability to control my rage.” He smiled, it was weak, but he knew it was there. He could feel it. “Remember all those years ago … the Stitcher case. Outside that warehouse I got in trouble with the chief.”

“That's not specific … ” but his eyes grew distant. “Wait, the missing dog?”

Narihisago nodded against the pillow. “Even the smallest of victims … if they could be saved, they deserved us putting everything on the line. Yeah, I know, I upset a lot of people chasing that ideal. But—it's always been there. And it looks like it always will be. In that warehouse with Hondomachi's life at risk, nothing else mattered.”

Lowering his chin to his chest he huffed a breath. “You're a strange one. But I have to say … ” he visibly braced himself, “thank you for looking out for her.”

For a moment Narihisago ceased to breathe. “Uhhh, I know I'm heavily drugged at the moment … but did I just hear … a thank you?”

Grumbling, Matsuoka stood up swiftly enough the chair scraped the floor. He stormed out.

Narihisago shut his eyes, savoring what he thought he would never hear for as long as he lived.

_**~ID~** _

Familiar voices echoed from the corridor outside the room. Momoki glanced up as the Wellside crew entered the room chattering as though everything were normal. It had only been a day ago since the rescue. The moment they walked into the room he shifted his eyes toward Narihisago. Instantly Togo held up a hand, the chattering dwindled. Wakashika, as always, the last to stop talking.

This was the first they had been in here, seeing as how Narihisago was now fully out of the recovery and in a regular room—with guards outside at all times. That seemed ridiculous. After all, there was no way he could even get out of bed. But protocol was protocol. Wakashika wasn't the only one to cringe as they laid eyes on him for the first time.

Momoki held up a hand. “It's ok, he's just sleeping.”

“Whoa.” Habutae whispered. “I thought he was an insomniac.”

“He is, usually. But at the moment they've apparently figured something out.”

Their eyes snuck peeks. Momoki smiled at their attempts not to be rude to a sleeping man.

Togo cleared her throat. “We were just with Hondomachi. Despite being tired, and sounding rather bad, she's in good spirits.”

“Oh really.” Momoki nodded. “When I stopped in she was resting.”

Wakashika grinned. “Yeah, she was really talkative. Told us all about what they went through. Man, that just sounded like some brutal gauntlet.”

Shiratake flicked a nod toward Narihisago. “Said that things would have been worse without him beside her.”

Habutae rubbed his chin. “Yeah, but then she mentioned that Itoh had been responsible for their abduction, even telling the yakuza to take her.”

Momoki stared down at his lap. “I know. And we still don't know where he is.”

“Try by the dock.”

With a start everyone snapped their eyes to Narihisago.

His eyes cracked open, a slight grit to his teeth as he growled, “You'll find him underwater. I highly doubt he could have survived. No one can swim with all their fingers and toes missing.”

Momoki held a hand out, _where had this come from?_ “What are you talking about?”

A disturbing smile crossed his face. “Oh, they did it. They seized him when I wouldn't pay his debt by pushing Izanagi to his death. They made Itoh slice digits off himself one at a time offering it to Konya to appease him. Hondomachi and I watched.” The sound of his laughter was chilling. “We savored every minute of it.”

“Narihisago, don't talk like that.”

“Like what?” He snapped, “Need I remind you who was responsible for handing me over to the yakuza, imagine what they could have done if I had complied! How about the fact he was responsible for endangering Hondomachi's life? For the crash that wrecked my ankle? For handing me over to the asshole who whipped me raw with a damned belt? And that's not even counting how much I hated that jerk from before.”

Around him the Wellside crew eyed one another.

The monitor tracked the acceleration of his pulse. “Narihisago, you need to stay calm.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Go, look. He was conscious when they dragged him off along with a chain to weight him down. He'll be there—what's left of him.”

Momoki offered Togo a nod. She stepped outside of the room and he could just hear her on the phone as he eyed Narihisago. “You could have mentioned that earlier.”


	17. Chapter 17

The hooked pole sank down from Matsuoka's perch on the rocky shore near the dock. He couldn't believe he was out here again working past the roped off area. Yokota and a handful of uniformed officers spread out on the shoreline stabbed into the dark waters.

“Gotta be ice cold in those waters this time of year.” Wiping his brow Yokota tugged a bit of seaweed tangled on the hook and tossed it back in with a splash. “So this body we're looking for, it's one of the Kura's security guards?”

Keeping his voice to a low grumble, Matsuoka stabbed the hook pole down. “Ex-head of security. Recently hired and fired. If only Narihisago had accused him I wouldn't have believed it. But Hondomachi actually said it before he did. I didn't know the guy personally, but I never heard anything stellar about him.”

“Well,” Yokota resumed probing, “if he was indebted to the yakuza it's safe to say you probably won't find him in one piece.”

An officer waved his hand in the air racing across the rocks. He handed a sea-soaked burlap bag to Yokota. He opened it and his eyes widened. Closing it he handed it over to Matsuoka.

“What's this?” Matsuoka opened the bag and glanced inside at the morbid assortment of flesh covered bones. At a quick count it looked like twenty. He heaved a sigh.

“Looks like parts of your guy.” He thrust the pole down and it caught on something. Pulling back he hauled the end of a chain up.

“Shit! Does every damn thing he says have to pan out to be true?” Matsuoka gripped the chain and they started pulling it up, aided by the handful of officers.

The chain wrapped body breached the surface. Bloated by the passage of time spent in the water, nibbled on by the marine life … every finger and toe was indeed missing, the joints cleaved. Itoh's remains lay at his feet.

In a gruff, he took a video and sent it off to Kokufu. “I hope this is the last surprise of this case. There's just something about hauling up the body of a coworker knowing they put their hand into the wrong jar.”

_**~ID~** _

“You wanted to see me?” Momoki stood in front of Kokufu's desk.

He nodded and fired up the video. Without a word he played it.

“Down to the last detail.” Remarked Momoki as an officer on the screen opened a burlap bag and displayed the contents for the camera. “Well … that seals that. As horrid as that is, we know the leak is plugged.”

“But that still leaves us with a serious problem.”

“I've been doing a lot of thinking about that.” Momoki ran a hand through his hair. “There isn't an immediate answer. But I may have a couple ideas to get us toward a solution.” Placing his hands on the desk. “I'm going to need clearance from you.”

Kokufu cocked an eyebrow. “For what?”

_**~ID~** _

Something touched his left hand dredging him up from sleep. Narihisago grumbled, he didn't particularly want to wake up. He was still extra sore from the bandage change earlier that morning. They'd tried to be gentle, but every motion renewed the deep ache. The essential procedure just plain wore him out.

“Narihisago, sorry to wake you.”

 _Momoki? True, he's been here a lot lately._ Opening his eyes he sighed, not even bothering to ask what was going on.

Something was different. He seemed … nervous? Excited? He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Being half awake didn't help. Momoki glanced up, back toward the door. “But, … I didn't want you to miss your visitor.” He held up a hand and beckoned.

A few tentative footsteps from the door caught his attention. “Akihito?”

He made the mistake of trying to raise his head to get a better look. His body wouldn't permit that yet. But nothing stopped him from the stunned question, “Mom?” Even though it had been years, he would have known her voice anywhere.

Momoki stepped back as she took his place. She entered wearing a visitor badge, her face a mixture of relief and concern as she laid eyes on him. For several minutes neither said anything. She clasped his left hand in both of hers, not daring to do more than lean in close, looking him in the eyes. The tears streamed down her cheeks.

Narihisago struggled to find words to say, nothing seemed right. “Mom … I'm so sorry for what I did … it wasn't right, but I couldn't stop myself.”

Her grip tightened as she shook her head. “Don't. This isn't the time for that. It's been years. I didn't come all this way for an apology. My boy, if I could I would hug you.”

“Heh, yeah, not the best idea. I've been told not to move much. Trust me, that's important.”

“I'm not blind. I can see my boy is a mess. But again, that's not why I am here. Funetaro told me you've been doing amazing work.”

“I wouldn't say it's amazing. I mean, it is a team effort, really. There's not a lot I can say about it.” He glanced up at Momoki. With a soft grin, he nodded. Narihisago blinked. “Wait … you mean I can tell her?”

Momoki pointed out the door. “Kokufu and I discussed it at length. She already knows she can't talk about this outside of here. The fact is you do still exist in this world, and there are some people who should know what service you have provided.”

Taking a deep breath, Narihisago shifted his gaze back to his mother's curious eyes. She reached forward and traced the edge of the bruise around his eyelid. “Akihito, what is it that you do that would possibly make someone do this to you?”

That simple touch sent a shiver down him. A connection he had been denied for so long. “You might want to sit down for this.”

Summing up the Mizuhanome on a good day was tricky enough. Trying to explain it half awake and heavily medicated proved to be daunting. He had no idea how much she was following, or even how much sense he was making. It didn't matter in the end, she was there, at his bedside holding his hand. She didn't ask questions, she just listened to him babbling on and getting lost in his own sentences halfway through them. Momoki leaned against the wall, silently watching.

At last a coughing fit interrupted. She placed a hand on his upper arm, away from the bandages, patiently waiting for it to subside. “My poor boy. You're not feeling well, are you.”

“No.” He sighed, this felt so much like when he was a child sick in bed. In a strange way, it was comforting seeing her there after more than three years. She couldn't stay this time, she shouldn't stay. This was his fate—the be locked away for the remainder of his natural life. Once he caught his breath he forced out, “But that part isn't serious, it's just a cold.” His eyes involuntarily shifted to the leg in the sling. He didn't even want to think about that. Still dreaded even the thought of trying to put weight on it. That was a long time coming.

She sat back down and smiled. “Good. Because you need to get better so you can be a detective again. You need to catch those bad people and put them away so they can never harm anyone else ever again.”

He laughed. “Mom, I don't actually catch them. I just help figure out who the team is looking for. I don't get to even leave the building.”

“And obviously that's not a problem. All those nasty killers that are taken out of the public by you. That's something to be proud of.”

Narihisago sighed. His own drive had taken several out permanently. Against the wall, Momoki studied the floor. It was only a guess that he had been considering the same thing.

She leaned in closer. “We just knew that our little boy would grow up to be a great detective and nothing would stop him. Didn't we.” Her gaze met something by the door.

“We?” Narihisago narrowed his eyes.

A figure stepped around the end of the bed. His father, also wearing a visitor badge, stood with arms folded across his chest. His eyes searched the room, at last settling on Narihisago. Clearing his throat he tried to keep his voice even. “Son.”

That one word was enough to steal Narihisago's breath. The last he knew, he'd been practically disowned as was customary when one was sentenced to prison.

_**~ID~** _

The moment Narihisago's father entered the room Momoki felt the change in the atmosphere. It was awkward standing there in a reunion he had no right to be in. Wandering to the doorway, he stood beside the guard listening to the chatter, most of it Akihito and his mother. That was why his father had hung back for so long, he had heard everything but he had nothing to add. It couldn't be denied, there was a look in his eyes as the shame melted away replaced by comprehension of what his son had been through. A comprehension that was congealing in Momoki as well reading between the lines—Narihisago had been through absolute hell and somehow had continued to function in some capacity. In retrospect it was astonishing.

Gradually the chatter dwindled. The couple came out the door. She embraced Momoki in a firm hug. “He fell asleep, my poor boy is in such bad shape.” Gripping his shoulders she shook her head. “You said to be prepared, but I didn't expect what I saw. Funetaro, I barely recognize him, he looks terrible!”

“I know. The crash and the abduction were both trying. He has a lot of healing to do.”

“I'm not talking about the injuries. I'm talking about him!”

Momoki heaved a sigh under her glare. “Our hope was that your visit would help lift his spirits. We're worried about his mental state.”

Her brow furrowed. “You're telling me that even though someone else was clearly involved in him choosing to seek revenge all those years ago, even now that that's known he can't be released?”

“Sadly no.” He held up his hands. “I'm sorry. But he's a risk to the population.”

“This is Akihito we're talking about. My gentle boy … ”

Momoki took a deep breath, hating to admit this. “ … who isn't the same any more. We're going to try and stabilize him, try to help out. Please, you have to understand that we've only recently gotten the authority to do anything.”

“So he's been suffering for years?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I … didn't realize how deeply.”

Mr. Narihisago stepped forward, poking his finger into Momoki's chest. “You're holding my boy. You have a duty to fix him.”


	18. Chapter 18

Hondomachi hit the button on the bed tilting it higher, then back down a bit, then up a bit more. Boredom was the word. Her left arm was completely useless, in a cast and strapped into a sling. Earlier she had insisted to the nurses she was feeling fine and could get up for a short walk only to lose her breath into a tight wheeze within two steps. Her excessive energy wasn't enough to overcome the drain. She admitted to herself, begrudgingly, this pneumonia was firmly kicking her ass. As she lived alone there was no chance she could go home until she had regained some stamina.

A figure stood in the doorway. She glanced up to find Momoki staring at the empty chair. “I half expected to find Matsuoka here. He was very upset when you went missing.”

“He was earlier.” She shrugged her right shoulder. “Told me that Itoh's body has been recovered.”

Momoki covered his eyes. “He wasn't supposed to … ”

“Oh, I'm ok, didn't stress me out. If anything, brightened my day. Don't worry. My fever broke last night. And the x-rays this morning showed the inflammation is improving. I'll be here for a few more days as they're worried I don't get enough air when I exert myself.” Already she could feel herself growing breathless, the twinge of a coughing fit nagging her.

“I'm glad to hear that much.” He grinned taking the empty seat. “I wanted to stop by and see if you needed anything.”

She held up her hand and laughed. “I'm fine. They're taking good care of me, even though I know I'm a wheezing wreck at the moment. Still seems unreal, everything that happened.” Her eyes narrowed a bit, not looking at Momoki. “Narihisago mentioned something … about you and your dad?”

Momoki rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Damn it, he knows practically everything. What did he tell you?”

“It came up when we were talking, trying to distract ourselves.” Her cheeks felt warm. “You see I mentioned about how my mom didn't want me to go into the force.”

“I didn't know that.” His eyebrows knit. “But how does that possibly relate my father?”

“Well, it's because my mom thinks it's a mans field and it makes me less desirable as a wife.”

“Ahhh, now _that_ makes sense. Not the wife part, but the getting married bit. Heh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The fact is I'm still not. But he backed off from that point many years ago.”

“How did you get him to understand? I try to talk to my mother, but she barely listens. She'll turn the conversation to my sisters and their husbands.”

He chuckled. “That's familiar. Dad used to talk right over me. It's not easy to do, but I had to stand up to him. Tell him my life was my own. That some traditions were meant to change … technically Narihisago was responsible for that part.”

She cocked her head.

“He spouted some nonsense tradition about cast societies. He's the son of a farmer, technically. In the old days there's no way he would have been allowed to marry Ayako.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he grinned, “she was the daughter of an elite.”

She burst into laughter agitating her lungs, but she didn't care. “So he married above his station.”

“Yup. But they were prefect for one another. And the truth was—my father saw no issue there. It gave me grounds to argue that pushing tradition wasn't always the right thing. And it sounds like your mom thinks you should be a dutiful housewife.”

“Pretty much. Would you help me convince her otherwise?”

“I think you're doing amazing. You don't need me to do that for you. But if you ever want to talk, I'm here.”

“Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.” Hondomachi's mind wandered, at length she muttered, “I can't believe he can actually do that.”

“Do what?”

“Narihisago. Talk someone to death. It was so eerie, like his voice actually changed. There was an edge to it. He knew precisely what to say. It was like he was chasing the man with words.” She met his eyes, searching the concern in them. “How long has he been able to do that?”

He looked to his lap. “The first known case where that happened was the Face-Lifter, shortly after Narihisago was recruited for the program. He was our first active pilot and the Face-Lifter was our first case. No one expected that a few days after his arrest—he'd be found in his cell a victim of suicide. At first it was beyond belief that he could have anything to do with it—except that he admitted it. It's not like it was something Narihisago had ever done before. But sadly, it didn't stop there.”

“There were others, though.”

Momoki nodded. “Yes, there were. Narihisago detests murderers. He'd been eager to apprehend them as a detective—”

She interrupted firmly, “He still is one.”

Her words brought his eyes sharply to her, slowly he nodded. “Before anyway, but his hatred grew more volatile after the Challenger brutalized Muku.”

“You have it wrong.” She shook her head, remembering him lying on the stairs, his voice, his words. “After Ayako committed suicide.” Touching her forehead where the scar remained she sighed. “It was all there in his voice. The way he said her name. You should have heard it. All that time, everything they had done to him to force him to comply, I had barely heard the pain register in his voice. Not until that moment, that name. Have you ever noticed he talks about Muku easily enough? But not her. He can't talk about her.”

Momoki withdrew a bit, staring down into his hands.

“Sorry, I just couldn't let go of that. You knew him best, I figured you might have an idea why. But it felt … weird. Like listening to him as he told Konya all about himself. According to him they'd never met. I don't understand how Narihisago knew that Konya's first kill was his last.”

He lifted his head squinting. “Wait, what?”

“It was all part of it. That Konya didn't actually kill anyone past his first time He forced others to do it to avoid a direct failure. Somehow it tied to his father. That seemed really weird. Something about never being able to get his approval?”

The color drained from Momoki's face. “How did he know?”

“Well, that's what I'd like to know.”

Swiftly he stood and raced out of the room.

Left on her own, she lowered the bed a bit and sighed. “Gotta love the communication around here. Sure is something.”

_**~ID~** _

Narihisago looked up into Momoki's wide eyes, he was panting, presumably from racing down the hall. “Yuu Konya. How did you know about his father? I didn't know until Yokota brought up the record.”

“Know what? That there was tension between them? It's not a hard leap of logic. Blooded yakuza families are known for being rather forceful when it comes to the family business. The guy was all talk and no action.”

He shook his head vehemently, his hand clawing through his hair. “His father's approval … damn Narihisago, that was a low blow.”

“You're not mad because of your … ”

“This about about me and Dad! This is about the Konya family. The night of his first kill? Yuu was ordered to force a victim to submit to his father. In the process, the man got lose and killed his father. Yuu managed to murder him before he escaped. But what was supposed to prove his worth cost him his father.”

Narihisago stared for a long breathless moment. “Shit … I didn't … I didn't know that. When I asked him if he could ever earn his father's approval … no wonder he snapped like a dried twig.”

Burying his face in his hands, Momoki muttered something to himself. At last he looked to the floor. “Narihisago, we have to do something about this … this … whatever it is. What you can do, this is out of control.”

“It's not like I wanted to, they were going to—”

“You did it on a cold read without even knowing the full impact! With what you know about the staff here—Matsuoka, the Wellside staff, me! What if you lost your temper?”

“Don't be ridiculous, I would never hurt any of you.”

“I don't want to admit it, but Matsuoka is right—you are a serious danger to everyone around you.” He shook his head. “The risk can't be taken.”

“Momoki, I mean it. I wouldn't.”

“Then stop doing it period!”

Narihisago's eyes drifted from his piercing stare.

“You can't. That's the problem.” He held up his hands. “Hayaseura started this by getting inside your head. Somehow we have to find the trigger and turn it off.”

“How?”

“I don't know.” His shoulders fell. “But I'm determined—because I don't like the alternative.”

The sound of his voice—those words, sent a shiver down Narihisago's aching spine.


	19. Chapter 19

Anaido plunged into the shallow water, humming to himself as he wandered. Every step sent the koi fish scattering. Frogs sang in a chorus at the edges. A crane swooped low, snatching one up in its beak. This place was downright peaceful.

“Odd for a drive to kill. Unless this is deception. Kaeru was in pieces, after all.”

Hands in his pockets he enjoyed this almost zen-like stroll. It was nice being out of his cell for a while. That place was boring as hell without anyone to talk to. He was effectively in solitary. They hadn't shifted anyone to his cell block. It had been a full week since Soma had told him Narihisago had been taken to the medical ward. And even though Soma was now head of security Fukuda'd been unable to convince him to shift the cellmates around.

Not all bad news. The only reason that made sense was that Narihisago must be coming back down at some point. Still, in some deep recess of his mind that bothered him. Why was it taking so long for them to bring him back down?

Another crane swooped down over the pond, picking up a frog and shifting the song of the amphibians. He sloshed through stirring the pond weed as the colorful fish circled his shoes. They were getting braver. Their scales made beautiful patterns as they glided through the water.

_One, two, thre … shit!_

The light changed as he wandered, shaded. He glanced up to find branches of fragrant wisteria overhead. Thousands of blooms, instantly his mind latched onto it, counting the bunches. When he shook his head and pushed it away, it started back on the individual blooms.

 _Damn it!_ He rubbed his forehead, thumb where the hole was supposed to be wishing that he could will it into being here, knock out the plaguing desire to count and count and count.

Scales, bunches, blooms, petals, pond weed … everywhere he looked here were groups of objects. Even the ripples around his footsteps commanded his attention.

_Deep breaths. This place is nice. So much better than a bare cell … but is it? There's nothing to count there, except Narihisago's photos. Gah …_

Outwardly he remained relaxed, strolling under the wisteria like not a thing in the world bothered him. Inside … it roiled, it burned, his eyes ached from glancing everywhere. The urge grappled for control.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught an immense blood red dorsal fin scudding toward him. That was no koi. It was the wrong shape. Taller, narrower, ragged at the edges. He knew before the creature even surged out of the water in an arc to swallow him whole what it was—a gigantic crimson Siamese Fighting Fish. Water pelted his face as the open mouth gaped. He counted the airborne droplets between them.

_One, two, three …_

Gravity changed, yanking him up and out from under the impact of the fish.

He opened his eyes in the dimly lit cockpit and took a slow breath, in through his nose and let it out through his mouth.

To his surprise, there was no chatter over the speakers. Soma and another guard approached cuffed him and took him immediately to the interrogation room.

“Uhh, clue me in here. What's going on?” He sat straight-backed in the chair.

Soma stood by the door. “The director's orders.”

“Am I trouble?”

“Not that I know of. But it might be a few minutes.”

With a sigh, Fukuda leaned back in he chair and stared at the ceiling. _Wonder what lunch will be?_

Lost in thought, Fukuda was torn out of his pondering as the door opened and Momoki stepped in, adjusting his tie. He offered a nod to Soma on his way by. “Thanks for bringing him right here.”

“No problem, Director.”

Taking the seat across the table, Momoki set his tablet down and exhaled a breath locking eyes with Fukuda. “First, thank you for that run. I'm sorry it took me a bit to come down. I was waiting on Matsuoka to apprehend the Fisher. She's in custody now.”

Fukuda smiled lazily. “Well, that's nice. I didn't think you would get anything from that place. It was too peaceful.”

“Shiratake recognized the wisteria arch. The construction was a match for a private garden that had been owned by one of the victims. Turns out the gardener thought she could throw us off the trail. But you found that detail.”

After a brief pause Fukuda lifted a finger. “You said 'first'. That means there's at least a second?”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, fingers tracing patterns on the back of the tablet. “I need your help with Narihisago.”

“Oh?” Fukuda didn't so much as move, but that intrigued him. “So the nut is still eluding you.”

Momoki flinched.

There it was. No need for an admission.

“You aren't still trying to do scans or that kind of shit anymore, right?”

He shook his head. “At the moment, no. We're not doing anything but letting him heal.”

Concern reached his brow, furrowing it. “Healing? I knew he was with our friend the good doctor. But what's wrong with him?” When Momoki wasn't forthcoming, he flicked his forefinger. “You want my help, you have to give me the details. That's how this works.”

He let out a long sigh. “You remember that second id well we sent you into?”

“The whipping boy alley one, yeah. How could I forget.”

“Turns out that man took a turn with Narihisago trying to compel him to talk their victim to death. Lashed him hard with a belt to the point where he can't even lie on his back until the welts heal.”

Fukuda whistled. “Ouch. At least my dance with that ended quickly enough. I didn't have to heal after you pulled Anaido out.”

“That's only part of it. He's banged up pretty bad from the whole experience. When he does come back down to his cell he'll still be recovering.” His shoulders fell. “But it's not the physical that is our greatest concern.”

“Aha. I can guess where you're going.” He pointed three times before lowering his hands to the table. _Chill the urge. Chill it, buddy._ “You want me to break confidence.”

Momoki didn't look up at him as he nodded. “Please. Something. Anything.”

“Heh, I told you that'll never happen. It's a matter of trust.”

He sighed. “Then … it's possible you won't be seeing again.”

If he could have folded his arms he would have. But the cuffs prevented it. “Nice, try. But I'm not going to fall for that bluff.” Even as he finished the sentence his conviction flagged. He narrowed his eyes as Momoki looked like he might be physically ill. The weight hit him. “You came to me because you're desperate. You don't want to lose him … for some reason you're desperate not to lose him.”

When he raised his head it was there, plain as day. “Full disclosure, if we can't find a way to derail his drive to kill we may have no choice. He knows too much about us.”

“What are you worried about with you guys? If anyone should be worried, it's me. He needs a dive to pull it off.”

He shook his head very deliberately.

Fukuda took in a slow breath. “No way … he did it without one?”

“Yes. Somehow, without a dive he managed to push the leader of a yakuza division to jump to his own death. We have witnesses who confirmed it. And worse yet, he used a piece of deduction that couldn't have been more tailored to self destruct the man without having known how brutal that blow was.” He held up a hand. “You know his temper. You know that the morning he left here he was angry with me. Imagine what he could do if he turned what he knows on us.”

That revelation hijacked Fukuda's thoughts. That was the thing, Nahirisago had been convinced the dives were part of it. And yet now … the man had done a cold profile and nailed a bastard. A slow smile crept to his face before he caught it and banished the expression. Interlacing his fingers he met Momoki's worried stare. “So, what do you want from me?”

“Anything that will help us. Anything he might have said that will point a way we can figure out what's going on in his head.”

He snorted a laugh. “Same thing I did, it's not hard to do. Listen to him. Not just to what he says, but what he doesn't say.”

His head snapped up, looking past Fukuda for a moment. “Ayako … ”

The slow smile grew wider. “Now you're onto something.”

“Hondomachi said when he mentioned her name his voice changed … he sounded like he was in pain.”

“Uhh yeah, and if that's the case—good.”

“Wait, what? Why would that be good?”

Fukuda lifted a hand. “Cause it means he's actually just starting to work through that. Shit, I've been trying to get him to be able to take the first steps for weeks now. Every time he tired that was it, end of conversation. The dude never even started the grieving process for her. He's been locked in the anger phase this whole damn time.”

That revelation appeared to have broken the director. He stared forward, unblinking.

Raising both hands, Fukuda waved one in front of his face. “You there? Or did I lose you?” The moment Momoki blinked he let out a breath. “Phew, ok good. Didn't want to break anybody else. I'm no doctor, but if you ask me, which you have, Narihisago just needs someone to ease him into opening up, working through what happened. The anger that unhinges him? It's right there. But it's gonna have to be a real doc, not like that a rent-a-shrink. You screwed that one up.”

“I … you both were horrid to him!”

“Seriously. You asked for my help, I'm being honest with you. The truth is anybody down in these cells has some serious screwball shit going in their heads. This isn't psychology light. We need somebody who can handle hearing what it's like to grapple with a desire to kill. That right there is what Narihisago struggles with everyday—trying not to be something he absolutely detests.” He lifted his hand pointing toward himself. “A murderer. And you don't get very far when you hate yourself.”

“For how long?” He leaned forward. “How long has he felt like that!”

“Since the beginning, since the moment he faced the reality of what he'd done, the weakness he gave into.” Fukuda leaned forward. “The moment _you_ stepped up to the prison window and he saw the look of disgust in your eyes.”

He stared down at his own hands, curling into fists.

“Well, you've done it. You've made me break confidence. I hope you're happy.”

His voice was barely a whisper. “Far from it. Now I know how deeply I have failed him all these years. Thank you, Fukuda. I appreciate you helping my … ” he looked all around the room before heaving a sigh and staring him straight in the eyes, “ … brother-in-law.”

Fukuda's eyes opened wider. “Whoa … so that was the missing piece.”

“Now we're even. I have broken confidence as well. Honestly, I owe you too.” He rose, taking up the tablet. “Looks like I have some interviews to do.”

“Hey, any idea how long until Narihisago comes down?”

Momoki paused at the door. “When he's capable of getting out of bed. It'll be a while longer yet. In the meantime, thank you again for helping us out in the cockpit.”

“Ehhh, Narihisago would have been mad at me if I hadn't. When you see him again, tell him I miss our chats.”


	20. Chapter 20

The ceiling never changed no matter how long Fukuda stared at it. That was undoubtedly the sucky part about being in prison. Sheer unbroken monotony. And yet there was a certain peacefulness. Rather like the peace after he drilled the hole in his head. Well … after that healed, anyway, and the obsession had subsided.

That peace he had found at the end of the drill bit—it had been so pleasant. He couldn't help but share it with others. In hindsight not really his best decision, but that water had long since passed under the bridge by now.

With his hands behind his head, he lounged on his bed and offered a sigh to the vast white expanse of ceiling. The roof of his limited world. “Sure would be nice if someone would make a well for me to wander through. Where's all the killers when you're dying of boredom.”

A few days had passed since he was needed in the cockpit chamber. He'd never imagined he would miss actually cooperating with the guys who'd nabbed him. In truth, they weren't half bad once he got to know them. A bit clueless at times, but nobody was perfect.

He hummed to himself idly. Not any particular melody, more of a montage of whatever popped into his head at the time. At length he ran out of tidbits to string together. Taking a breath to go back to the beginning he discovered a background noise. Holding his breath he keyed into it. A strange shuffle with an intermittent tap. A sloooow intermittent tap.

Sitting up on the edge of his bed, Fukuda knew he wouldn't be able to see much of anything yet from the end of the hallway. Whoever it was had to get closer first. That pace was far too slow for it to mean he was on deck for a dive, unless they weren't in a hurry to load the cockpit. Unlikely since that director was always in a rush when it came to the dives.

“Take it slow.” That was Soma, alright.

_Tap, shuffle._ “There isn't … another … option.” That was a voice he hadn't heard in weeks! Narihisago, though, his voice was rather breathy.

“You know you probably should have come down in a wheelchair.” Hagashi replied.

“No.” That was a firm enough reply, followed by a hiss. “Counting the time … spent in the hands of … those assholes … I've been immobile too long. Gah!”

“Careful, don't put any weight on that. Hagashi, hold up. Give him a moment.”

“I'll be … fine.”

“Dude, you're shaking.”

Fukuda wandered to the far end of his cell. Roughly halfway down the hall he could see Soma at the left side. With his head bowed, Narihisago leaned heavily on a crutch, gripping it tight in his left hand. His left foot he held up off the floor, it wasn't in a shoe but a bulky support boot. He was in his usual prison attire, but to Fukuda's shock he wasn't cuffed at all. Then again—he was hobbling, shaking like a leaf, and out of breath, the poor guy. As he staggered a few steps forward, Fukuda saw more—the reason he only had one crutch. Narihisago's right arm hung useless at his side, the wrist was in a brace.

The guy was a mess. Boy, was it good to see him.

It took for-seemingly-ever for him to lumber into the cell. He leaned the crutch against the head of the bed and carefully eased himself down on his left side. Closing his eyes he just breathed, his right hand hanging over the edge of the bed.

Soma lingered in the door. “That was quite a walk for you. Dinner is in a few hours, so you can rest if you need to.” After a moment he left, locking down the cell on his way out.

Narihisago didn't reply. He just lay there, breathing.

Weeks had passed—weeks since Fukuda had been called to the cockpit for those emergency dives to learn that his friend was missing. Even in all that time this was the condition the guy returned in? Heh, it's not like he'd been very active in his cell to begin with. But still, he was truly trashed if that short walk had laid him out.

Leaning against the barrier, Fukuda offered a lazy grin. “That was a really lengthy day trip. Long time, no see.”

Narihisago cracked an eye open for a moment before closing it again. After a deep breath he muttered, “Hey.”

“So uhh, how you feelin'?”

He grumbled. “How does it look like I'm feeling?”

Fukuda scratched the back of his neck. “Fair response.”

Then … silence. Nearly giving up on a further discussion, Fukuda turned back toward his bed about to go back to staring at the ceiling. “By the way, you really came through earlier. Thank you.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “How'd I do that?”

He wasn't lifting his head, but at least he'd caught his breath. “You told Momoki about that weird dream.”

“That one with the sadistic fishing whale? Oh yeah that. Heh, nearly forgot about that.”

Narihisago chuckled, “Damn, ever since I first laid eyes on that painting I could never forget that scheming grin.”

“No shit, that was some straight up screwball imagery.”

“Imagine having that as a business logo.”

He blinked. “Wait … were they trying to scare the fish away?”

Narihisago pointed with his braced hand, the fingers a bit awkward. “You just solved a mystery—why they went out of business.”

Laughing, Fukuda ran a hand through his lopsided hair and sat down on the floor in front of his bed. “Been doing quite a bit of solving mysteries while you've been laid up. Someone had to fill in for you and Hondomachi while you were both lying down on the job.”

“Not much of a choice. Not after what that asshole Itoh pulled.” He heaved a sigh. “So it all fell on you, huh?”

Fukuda shrugged. “Maybe it wasn't so bad. I mean, I got to wander in some neat wells.”

“Really? You'll have to tell me about them.”

A slow teasing smile crossed his lips. “I never thought I'd get to say this, but—no I don't.”

With a groan, Narihisago rubbed his eyes with his left hand. “Ok, I asked for that.”

Flicking his gaze to the crutch, Fukuda's lack of a filter kicked in. “Can you walk without that?”

With a forlorn gaze, he shook his head. “At the moment, there's no way. I can't put any weight on that mess. It'll be months before I know … ” he shut his eyes, “if I'll ever walk right again.”

“Heh well, that would suck. Hey, you ever wonder if that would translate into the well dives? A lame ass Sakaido, haha, that could be hilarious.”

“We won't know that for a long time. Momoki … ” he looked a bit lost, “won't let me anywhere near the cockpit. Especially not now.”

“Oh yeah, because of your,” Fukuda did air quotes, “issue.”

“Well, yeah, there is that. But I'm also on a pretty high dose of pain meds at the moment and those **really** fuck with dives.”

His eyebrows raised. “How did you find that one out?”

“I think you can guess … remember when Hayaseura shot me?”

“Ahhh, while I was in my long nap phase.” He pointed three times. Realizing it, he leaned back on his palms. “Safe to say that the staff probably isn't too worried about that. What has them all squirrely is your mouth.”

Narihisago's brows knit. “How do you know about that?”

“Momoki's been down here a couple times.”

“Why?”

He gave a crooked smile. “No reason.”

“You know you're a terrible liar if I can tell this high on narcotics.”

Holding up his hands, Fukuda laughed once. “I wasn't trying that hard. Man, it's nice having the Brilliant Detective cell block again.”

“Minus one.”

“Hrm?”

More emphatically he repeated. “Minus one. But do you really want Hondomachi to join us down here?”

“The little missy? Ohhh no. She don't belong here with us. She's in a class by herself. Hey, is she out of the medical ward?”

Narihisago nodded. “Yeah, they released her some time ago.”

“She heals faster than you?”

“Maybe?” He shrugged. “But honestly she was lucky those yakuza were a bunch of sexist pricks. They largely laid off of her. Not to say she got away without injury. But damn she delivered the second she had the chance.”

“By the look of you … they had a target in mind. And boy, did they try and force you. Til you taught their leader a lesson. To have been a fly on that wall.”

“You would have been an awfully cold fly.”

That was a rare moment! “So lucky, you got to see outside. That must've been nice.”

He grumbled. “Oh yes, getting rolled in a car crash and beaten half to death was all worth it. The color of the autumn leaves were quite lovely.”

“Ehh, still, it's been a while for me.”

Narihisago closed his eyes. “Get back to me when it's been a few years. Then we'll talk.”

Cocking his head, Fukuda leaned forward. “Speaking of talking … ” now that was a strange way of phrasing things, “it's been a while. How you doing with your uhhh … problem?”

The reaction was slow. A gradual tensing right before he rolled over leaving his back to Fukuda. That took a lot of effort for him, cementing in just how deep the question bore in. It couldn't be missed, the large fading bruise with the ridged scar on the side of his neck. It was a good thing he wasn't watching as Fukuda winced. “I take it that's a … ”

Narihisago didn't reply.

With a sigh, Fukuda leaned back against his bed “ … no.” _Still too easy to step over your line, Narihisago._ “Welcome home, for what it's worth.”

**_~ID~_ **

Home. Narihisago would have laughed but he was too exhausted. Everything ached, every minute muscle fiber in his body was making their presence known. He knew he'd been pushing it to walk down here instead of the offered use of a wheelchair. But the truth was he had been bedridden too long and it was driving him stir crazy. He was desperate for some shred of normalcy. The physical therapy to get him back on his fe—foot had been grueling. Technically he needed two crutches, but the right wrist couldn't take any weight. He could hobble around on the one, but cuffing him was impossible. No one had to tell him what that meant.

He wouldn't be leaving his cell again for a long time.

Fukuda's bantering only made it worse. Narihisago doubted that he was doing it on purpose. They'd chatted enough that he knew how earnest the guy's desperation was to make a valid connection. Though his efforts were awkward. Fukuda wasn't cruel by nature, he just struggled with a number of critical skills.

_Critical skills yeah,_ Narihisago took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, _kind of like reining in a lethal temper. I can't … I just … it gets away … I don't always know I'm doing it._

He stared at the photos at the wall. A blur of smiling faces as his eyes wouldn't focus. Numb, that part of him didn't even register as he laid there. Sleep was dragging him down one breath at a time.

Time—he had an abundance of that now. The rest of his natural life.


	21. Chapter 21

Time really doesn't have a whole lot of meaning when the only thing marking it was the same old routine. Lights on, three scheduled meals, lights out. Repeat. The only true passage of time for Narihisago and Fukuda were the rambling discussions they engaged in over the seemingly endless hours in between. Neither one of them had been called upon for the cockpit, which came as no surprise. They both agreed that it was highly likely Hondomachi was back in the saddle for now. Either that, or the Kura wasn't on active duty, a true possibility. Though their block only housed the two of them, they still hadn't heard the echoes of any new inmates. Unless they had been very quiet.

In the mid-morning doldrums across the hall, Fukuda yawned and stretched.

Narihisago slid his gaze over his way wondering what strange topic might be rattling around in that mind of his. Lying on his back, he reached down and tried to work a finger into the support boot he had no choice but to wear, inching toward a deep itch. Well, that was a sign it was healing. Unfortunately he couldn't reach far enough to scratch it. Not without removing it. That wasn't something he was about try, it was agitating enough when the medical staff came down to give the wounds a cleaning good once over. He still couldn't look down at the mess of surgical scars. Which struck him as odd. Examining disturbing wounds had been a critical part of his job. Somehow, this time, when it was his flesh—it was different. His hand strayed, brushing against the brace, a constant reminder not to use his wrist. A reminder of something else … he closed his eyes trying to banish the memory … a blood crusted blade, a bath tub full of diluted blood, deep cuts into a wrist. His chest squeezed painfully tight clenching each breath, sweat blossomed on his brow as his heart beat charged like a fleeing horse.

“Narihisago? Hey, you alright?”

When he opened his eyes, Fukuda stood at the front of his cell, hands flattened against the pane. Narihisago took a deep breath and wiped away the film on his forehead. Forcing a smile he couldn't hold onto. “Yeah … I just … just moved wrong.”

He watched for a moment longer before shrugging. “Sure … sure you did.”

_Who am I fooling?_

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Narihisago sat up in tandem with Fukuda executing an about face down the hall as he pointed, “Uhh, it's not my imagination … we just finished breakfast like an hour ago so it's way too early for lunch, right?”

“Right.” He swung to the edge of the bed as the footsteps, more than one set, came closer. The cadence familiar. It was still only the two of them in this block. Granted, solitary was through this way—but other than him not too many ever seemed to earn a stint there. So, what was going on?

Fukuda clapped his heads together. “Alright, one of us is getting a dive and I think I know who it is!”

Momoki halted between the two cells.

Grabbing his crutch, Narihisago levered himself up and keeping his left foot well off the floor closed the distance to the front of his cell.

Momoki raised an eyebrow. “Wow, you've really gotten nimble on that.”

“He should be.” Fukuda snorted a laugh. “He's been up and constantly pacing like a zoo animal.”

Narihisago glared at him. “It's called physical therapy. I'm trying to recondition after being bedridden.”

“Call it what you will, it's still pacing.”

Holding up a hand, Momoki silenced them both. He had an odd smile on his face instead of frustration at their antics. “I have no doubt there's been a bit of boredom down here.”

“A bit?” Fukuda started in. “Weeks with no one to talk to down here and just these bare walls for company. I was close to naming them … ”

Momoki folded his arms. “Are you finished?”

He shrugged. 

Resuming his rather business-like demeanor, Momoki addressed them both. “Starting today we're going to try something different.” 

There had been more than one set of footsteps. Those now continued. Hondomachi came to his side with her suit jacket wrapped around one shoulder, her left arm still in a sling. She was wearing a solid shirt instead of a button up with no tie. She waved to both of them, cheerily. “Hi guys. Been a while.”

“It's the little missy! Still rockin' that hole.” Fukuda beamed as much as he ever did. “Never thought I'd see you down here.”

Momoki nodded toward Narihisago. “His condition made this location a necessity. Given that he can hardly use a crutch while cuffed, we had to figure out how this would work with the necessary precautions.”

_How what would work?_

Soma and Hagashi brought a couple of chairs and set them facing one another a fair distance apart in the middle of the corridor in between the two cells. They stood back as Hondomachi sat down in one. “This should be interesting.”

“What should?” Narihisago searched Momoki's face for an answer. He looked rather confident about something.

Momoki waved a hand and another set of steps carried. 

A tall bespectacled man in a gray-scaled cardigan sweater stood beside Momoki. He had a warm smile and a relaxed posture. Narrowing his eyes, Narihisago pegged him immediately for what he was. 

It didn't stop Momoki from touching the man's shoulder. “I'd like to introduce Dr. Jouji Saigo, he's a—”

“Shrink.” Narihisago interrupted, turning his back and hobbling back toward the bed.

“He prefers psychiatrist.”

“I don't give a fuck.”

Saigo held up a hand, in a quiet voice he answered, “It's ok, Director. I understand the sentiment.”

Halfway back to his bed, Hondomachi's voice halted him, “Narihisago, I thought you wanted to dive again.”

He leaned heavily on the crutch, head hanging as he peered over his shoulder through the strands of overgrown hair. It was barely a whisper. “More than anything.”

“Then, give this a try. I've already had a couple sessions with Dr. Saigo. He's a nice guy. I mean, unless you want to just stay here forever.”

“You and your optimism.” Narihisago sighed. “You just don't get it. I **am** stuck here,” he gestured to his cell, “forever.”

“Hey, remember up in the warehouse? We were a team getting through it, right? Well, take a seat.”

He turned and smirked at Momoki. “So we're gonna do this  _again_ ? Remember the last one?”

Momoki closed his eyes for a moment, clearly in regret. “Yeah, well, that was different. Dr. Saigo is an actual criminal psychiatrist. He's more accustomed to dealing with your unique psyches. He has also been brought up to speed on our complete process here. Talk to him about whatever you like, even the dives. Kokufu and I have come to understand that the process leaves imprints on you pilots. A process we cannot ignore. Narihisago, you have undergone the most dives of all the pilots, surpassing even the test subjects. Kura has previously failed to acknowledge the cost. Not anymore. Now, I'll step out and we can see how this goes. He will only report to us on whether of not progress is being made and other methods that might benefit you. Dr. Saigo, you have the alarm button if there is any reason you need it. Otherwise, Soma and Hagashi will be out of earshot for your group.”

Saigo pulled out a small key fob from his pocket and held it up before returning it. “I hope we won't need it. But I want them to know what we discuss in this group session is just between us.”

“Best of luck.” And with that Momoki left, taking Soma and Hagashi with him.

Fukuda clapped his hands together and sat down on the floor in front of his cell. In the lengthy silence all eyes stared at the final holdout, Narihisago stood there studying the floor. There was no way out of this. One way or another this would happen. Just one look and he knew, this was no rent-a-shrink. Saigo read as a stable, hard core intellectual. He'd already stared fucked-up in the face and come back with confidence. They wouldn't be able to crack him like a dropped egg.

“Shit.” Narihisago exhaled, hobbling over to his bed he levered himself down to the floor and leaned his back against it, setting the crutch in easy grabbing range.

“Good.” Saigo smiled. “So, we're all here. And I know you all know one another.”

Fukuda laughed. “Certainly, this is the little missy and that one is Mr. Anger Issues.”

“Knock it off, Ryobi.” Narihisago muttered.

“That's not my brand. I told you that.”

A stunned silence followed, both inmates staring at Saigo who had done nothing to stop their exchange. He calmly watched them. At length he asked, “Ok, so who has spoken to a psychiatrist before?”

Hondomachi shrugged, “Before our sessions? Never.”

Narihisago eyed him sourly until Saigo raised a hand. “I already know your history.”

“Fat lot of good any of that did me. Had more luck talking to the damn walls in my cell at that prison.”

“Fair assessment. I have seen your file and those doctors went about things the wrong way in your case.” 

_Doesn't take a detective to figure that out!_

Saigo polished his glasses on his sweater and looked to Fukuda.

Scratching the back of his neck, he shook his head. “A shrink? Haha, yeah, what are the chances of folks arranging that when they were more than willing to ditch their screwed up handful of a kid at a carnival. Not once—but twice before they actually succeeded.”

Hondomachi inhaled sharply before clenching her right fist. “They should be ashamed.”

“Yeah, well, they weren't. Not in the least. Trust me, I learned that when I tracked my dad down and stared along the drill bit at him.”

Saigo didn't so much as flinch. He crossed his legs in the chair. “Did that make you feel better?”

“What? Drilling a hole through the negligent asshole? Hell yeah. I fixed him and left him lying where he fell. Turns out Daddy wasn't as tough as he thought.” But the truth weighed his shoulders down. “After that … I was lost. It's not like I ever thought I'd get my family back or anything. But there was something about him being irrevocably gone. All around me people had connections, friends, families. Why couldn't I have that?” He pointed across the way to Narihisago. “That's what our talks have worked out. Which means Hondomachi was dead right when she accused me of trying to start a club. In some crude way, I was. I wanted the family that I should have had. Too bad I hadn't met you sooner. Might not have gone so far. Heh. Kinda too late for apologies, isn't it.”

Drawing his right knee up, Narihisago folded his arms over it and rested his chin on them before muttering, “That's understating the obvious.” He expected a rebuke … that didn't come. Not from Fukuda, not from Saigo. They sat in silence.

Saigo didn't shift as he remarked. “The three of you went through a rather traumatic experience recently. Hondomachi, you and I have had some discussion concerning it.”

She nodded, her right hand clenching into a fist. The moment she realized it, her eyes widened and she flattened the palm on her lap. 

“It's alright that we're still working through it. The point is, we are. Now, Fukuda it is my understanding you witnessed the wells of the men who were holding your colleagues hostage, and even provided a vital clue to recovering them.”

“Yeah. Those were some wild wells. Shooting gallery with real captive targets. And then there was the whipping boy alley one.”

“With the graffiti.”

His eyebrows raised. “Oh, so they told you about that?”

He nodded. “As well as the conclusion you told Momoki.”

Placing a finger to his chin he tapped it a few times. “About the kid?” Fukuda glanced across, locking eyes with Narihisago. “Hey, the one you took out. Was that the thug who took a belt and beat the crap out of you?”

Narihisago returned a listless nod. “His name was Orochi. Real sadistic bastard in a power struggle with Tsuyoshi. Both of them were lackeys under Konya vying for his attention.”

“Heh, I'd say the odds were that was a match for that id well. By the looks of things Orochi's drive was anchored firmly in the abuse he received as a child. The scars ran deep, but he couldn't stop drawing from that well of pain. Once out of Daddy's shadow, he turned it outward.”

Hondomachi grunted, “Made him a great thug and a terrible person.”

It was inescapable, out of the corner of his eye Saigo was watching Narihisago, reading him like a damn book. With his chin still on his folded arms he turned his head enough to look away as Saigo spoke, “As pilots you all hold a deep comprehension about drives, don't you. What makes a person want kill another.”

“Nobody knows the mind of a killer more than Narihisago.”

“Fukuda!” Hondomachi hissed.

“What it's true and he knows it. The fact is he even knows the root of his own drive, don't yah Mr. Anger Issues.”

Narihisago wasn't watching anyone. Subconsciously he had lifted his head and was staring at the photos, staring at their faces. The tears didn't come—wouldn't come. Only deep in his chest a persistent ache welling up. He couldn't tell if he was holding his breath or not. Slowly he became aware of his fingers tracing the brace around in wrist, tracing a line of a scar he now bore—matching hers. 

It hurt. That deep void inside of him festered like the old wound that it was. 

A voice called out from a distance. “Narihisago, you know the source. I heard it in your voice. You're in pain and that's not going away. It's getting worse.”  _Hondomachi …_ her voice dripped with concern. 

“When?” He barely managed to get the word out.

“On the stairs, after Konya, after we fought Orochi and Tsuyoshi. You were bleeding, I thought you were dying.”

“I was.”

“Do you even remember lying there? Do you remember what you said?”

It was the minutest of motions, but he shook his head. His eyes locked on a photo of the three of them walking through the woods, Muku just a little toddler. So small, looking toward a bright future on the light in the horizon. A future that was smashed to oblivion. 

Hondomachi's voice was closer, just on the other side of the pane, soft, but it broke through the spell. “You wanted to go home … ” the tension grew in his chest, “ … Muku … ” it throbbed, “ … Ayako … ” someone could have punched him and it would have hurt less.

Narihisago gripped his chest and bowed his head, breathing hard against the welling pain inside. A moment later his hand turned into fist. The terrible void was swallowing him whole. He had said her name? He had said it? She was gone … Muku's loss had been hard enough to bear. But … she was gone … she had left him! They were going to get through this together just as soon as he solved the case and put her killer to justice … just as soon as … he … 

He stared at his open palm, tears plunked into it. “It was … my fault … I should have been there for her. But instead … I chose to bury my grief in work. Kick it aside so I could bring the monster to justice who had savagely taken our daughter's life. I loved her.” He choked on the words, their weight harder and harder to bear. “I loved her and when she needed me to be there holding her hand … I was at the damn office chasing leads on the case. If I had been there she wouldn't have died … I wouldn't have gone off half-cocked a few days later when my own grief … ” it hit him hard, “when I no longer cared what happened to me. All I wanted was for the Challenger to pay for what he did. I'd already lost everything … my daughter, my wife … there was nothing to live for anymore but vengeance. This was all my fault.”

Saigo's voice was so quiet he almost had to hold his breath to hear it. “It's not your fault. There were others involved. Kokufu and Momoki told me the truth about the previous head of Kura. There is no denying that he manipulated you, and you have a paid a terrible price. Denied your freedom, your home, your family.”

His hand clenched into a fist. “We were going to be together … to the very end. We promised one another! But she left me. Not even a note to say goodbye. We'd spoken—she could have told me. But she lied … and she left … me.”

“How long have you carried this?”

He had to take several deep breaths before he answered. “Over three years now … and I swear … the man I was died the day I found her dead. I was no longer a detective, no longer strong … no longer human.”

“Narihisago,” Hondomachi called out, “you are still all of those things.”

He shook his head, pointing across the hall. “Fukuda was able to resist John Walker. I failed … I threw everything away, destroyed everything … ”

“Hey,” Fukuda spoke up, “you ever actually saw the guy in your dreams? Cause you never mentioned you had. The fact is I saw the nut job, spoke to him. Had the chance to reject his offer. Way it sounds you had nothin' of the sort. When he got you, somehow he got completely under your radar. You didn't even know till you saw him in the sand storm.”

When Narihisago looked up, Saigo had a soft smile fixed on him. “How about we solve this mystery together? What do you say, brilliant detectives.”


	22. Chapter 22

“Over the last days you have made remarkable progress, especially when considering the depth of your psychosis.” Saigo sat in the chair with one leg crossed over the other, casual as ever. This time he wasn't in profile. He was facing the cell on full singular focus.

Narihisago sat on the edge of his bed staring at the floor. He'd known something was different about today. It was obvious the moment the guards escorted Fukuda from his cell, and Hondomachi had not come down. A shiver ran down his spine, had he blown it the other day when he'd lost his temper? That really hadn't been the best for his still healing injuries. At least it was only some fresh bruises … ones he deserved. He glanced across the corridor to the other cell, the sight of the open door waiting for Fukuda to return weighed heavy on him.

“Relax. It's simply a different approach today. I'll be meeting with Fukuda in the interrogation after we finish. Right now this is your time.”

 _Am I that easy to read?_ He ran a hand through his hair, mindful of the bandage on his forehead. He'd done it again. Been forced to try and short circuit the damn process. Luckily it hadn't gone too far, just a small cut that bled like hell. “I'm sorry … this change, this is about yesterday … isn't it.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?”

He looked up, narrowing his eyes. As always Saigo was unbreakable. “Because I ruined the session.”

Saigo pulled off is glasses and cleaned them. “Is that what you think happened?”

“Of course.”

“That's your opinion.”

Narihisago leaned on his elbows. “Everything came to a screeching halt because I was weak.”

“Because you reached a breaking point.” He pointed with his glasses before putting them back on. “That was bound to happen eventually. Each day I could hear it creeping into your voice, that deep seated self-loathing. Are you aware how many times yesterday you referred to yourself as a monster?”

“That's a fact.”

“Is it now?”

“I'm a killer, a murderer. I can't stop myself from doing it.”

Saigo didn't even flinch. He just continued to calmly smile. “Those you pushed to their deaths, they had hurt people. Tortured them to the point of death. And not just one, but several victims.”

Narihisago pushed up on his crutch, “That's precisely why! They didn't deserve to live … but it's not my place to decide that. I shouldn't be executing their fates. If I justify that, what about my own?”

Saigo nodded, waving a hand to continue.

With a frustrated grunt, Narihisago began to pace back and forth, surprisingly well on a crutch and one leg. “Look, usually I'm good at this kind of deduction. But it doesn't work. The pieces don't fit together. They have to be stopped because they kill others. That's why I first became a detective. It's why I dive. Inside their drives I see why they do it, I understand what it is that compels them. I can't stop myself from leading them to it, from forcing them to completion with the missing piece. They deserve to know what they're doing to others. To feel it. And then … it's complete. Justice” He paused. “But that's the thing I'm missing. What exempts _me_ from that same fate? Why when I try to turn it on myself do I only succeed in knocking myself out? What piece am I missing that makes me do this?”

“Fukuda. He is one of the drives you dove into. He killed many, and even maimed a colleague. Have you ever been compelled to corner him?”

“No.” He resumed pacing. “But that's because at his core he wasn't actually _trying_ to kill them. Some screw-balled idea got in his head that he was fixing people with those holes. He's realized he was wrong with Hondomachi. The guy's a bit annoying, and certainly misguided, but it wasn't malice—he was searching for something. For some reason that's enough.”

“I would say it's a legit reason. Same as for you.”

“Ugh.” He rolled his eyes. “I'm too close to this … ”

“Narihisago—when you dive you're trying to help people. When you push a murderer to suicide you are permanently removing them from being able to harm others. There is some logic to it, twisted, like Fukuda's holes. Look back to the sources we've talked about.”

He heaved a sigh not really wanting to put a hand in that fire again. That's precisely how shit ran off the rails yesterday. “I used to be a pacifist. I couldn't stand others getting hurt. All I ever wanted to do was prevent it from happening again.”

“A pacifist. Certainly not now. What changed that?”

His heartbeat throbbed against his ribs. “I can tell you the moment it snapped … the moment it began to detach, thread by thread as my sanity frayed. It had been hard enough losing Muku. But Ayako … ” his hand white-knuckled the crutch, it actually hurt, “when I knelt collapsed on the floor outside the bathroom … that had been our home, our sanctuary. My job … my failure to do my job had reached them. Not just one, but both, one right after the next. I should have been able to to stop that. I should have seen her pain, how I was hurting her by not being there!”

“Narihisago, weren't you suffering as well? Weren't you in pain?”

He shut his eyes and nodded. The words, the full admission wouldn't come.

“And you still are. Beyond all of this, we know that you were manipulated. Yet you are compelled to blame yourself.”

Narihisago growled, “That doesn't matter! I still gave in! I shouldn't have gone there and yet I don't regret it. Remembering the expression on the Challenger's face as I emptied my mag into him brings me pleasure, not pain! I'd do it again. I know I would—because I have!”

“In that dive.”

“Yes. The events played out differently, I made it look like self defense. But I still couldn't let the system run its course. It had to be my hands making certain he could never do it again. Him, and all the rest of the bastards John Walker manipulated … ” his words ran off into silence. Something started to click. “They were victims … but they were all killers first. No—I'm lying to myself. They'd had urges, but most hadn't acted on them in the real world. Not until the meddling began. Look—I know Hayaseura was behind a lot of this. But the damage,” he gestured to himself, “it's still left behind. I may be able to dive, to use Sakaido to hunt out their identities, but I'm clearly not sane anymore.”

“Anyone who has experienced what you have would be struggling. I'd say under the circumstances you are handling it remarkably well.”

He touched the bandage on his forehead. “Yeah, now who's lying.”

Casually, Saigo folded his hands on his knee. “You do realize you've been suffering from untreated PTSD for over three years now.”

He blinked … that was the first time anyone had bothered to put a name to his condition.

“Narihisago, stop and think about it. The symptoms add up. Insomnia, nightmares, emotional instability, acts of self-mutilation, guilt issues … frankly I would even add survivor's remorse to that. You have been burdened with this for years after losing everything important in your life. Your family, your freedom, the very thing that defined you had been corrupted—a detective. The efforts to help you in the prison failed to even consider what had happened. They just tossed pills at you rather than giving you a chance to work through this. Now … we know what's at the core. We have found the festering wound. Healing it is going to be difficult. But it might short circuit your own drive to kill in the long run.”

“Do you think that's even possible?”

“Nothing is certain. We're in uncharted territory. I have never dealt with cases involving another truly being able to fully manipulate psyches as Hayaseura did. But we'll never know if we don't try. You're agitated right now, I can see it in the grip on your crutch.”

He glanced down, the knuckles white enough they looked like the bone was exposed. He forced it to relax.

“Good effort. Now, do you want to continue or are we too close to a threshold? You tell me.”

Narihisago exhaled shakily. “I want to get better. I can't stand loathing what I've become.”

“Ok, then we continue. At the heart of this is how you feel about Ayako's death. It's going to hurt, but take your time, … tell me about it.”

Narihisago already felt the room spinning. He forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He turned and stared at the photos for a long time, collecting his thoughts. Saigo was right, this was going to hurt like a son of bitch. But he'd never know peace unless he faced this. “It never should have happened … on that day when she told me she was alright … Ayako lied to me … and I failed to pick up on that.”

_**~ID~** _

Kokufu carried a tray of tea over to the table between the couches in his office. He handed a cup to Saigo and another to Momoki before taking his own and sitting down to join them for the briefing.

Saigo took a sip before setting the cup back in the saucer. “Thank you for the hospitality. And I must say, thank you for the challenging cases.”

“You're welcome. You are doing us an invaluable service. How are things going down there?”

“Progress on all fronts.” Saigo looked to Momoki. “Hondomachi is doing very well working with a few techniques I've shown her to help with the recent trauma. By the way, she does want to speak with you about a certain shared experience.”

Kokufu raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

“Ahh, well, I suppose since we've largely halted dives at the moment I'll touch base with her and we can chat.”

“So she has mentioned this?”

“Yes, at Narihisago's suggestion.” He shrugged. “It's alright. This isn't a new situation for me and I can understand why that came up.”

“Good. That should prove helpful. Fukuda is rather talkative. It can be difficult to keep him on topic, but there is marked progress. And I find it interesting that the two inmates have a confidence in one another considering how they both came to be down there. Fukuda is an interesting individual, his arithmomania lead to a handful of other issues he is coming to realize.” He took another sip of the tea. “Which leads me to Narihisago.”

“Have you found a way to nullify the trigger?”

“It's a work in progress, Momoki. I understand your desire for this to be just turned off. But that's not how it works, even with a straight forward case. The subconscious does not function as a light switch. What I can tell you is that his psychosis is a deep scar, and that wound hasn't even begun to heal. He is going to need time to work through the crippling emotional damage. However—you pulled him from his only source of self worth.”

Momoki and Kokufu looked at one another. “The dives.”

“Precisely. I can tell you part of his issue is self-loathing. In his very real opinion all he is down there at the moment is a monster justifiably removed from society. As soon as possible you need to give him a purpose again.”

“Dr. Araya said he wasn't to dive until he authorized it. That would be after the procedure to remove what can be of the hardware in his foot.”

“Fair enough. But in the meantime, perhaps consider consulting him. He is a detective after all, something he dismisses outright and yet he still has a steel trap mind.”

Momoki sat forward, eagerness in his eyes. “Can he ever be stable enough … to … ”

“To be released? Momoki, the man _is_ regretfully criminally insane.” Saigo took off his glasses and cleaned them. “Only time will tell.”


	23. Chapter 23

The sun poured down through the barren trees in the park. Scattered dried leaves blew in the breeze that stirred Momoki's scarf beneath his jacket. It was chilly, but the sun's warmth helped to counter that as he stood on the foot bridge watching the multicolored koi fish disturb the surface as they lapped at it with their mouths. His reflection was distorted by their motion.

Beside him Hondomachi rested her right arm on the rail, he left still in a sling tucked under the shoulder of her jacket. She wasn't in a button up blouse beneath her woolen jacket, more like a t-shirt able to accommodate the bulky cast. She watched the fish with a idle stare obviously caught in her own thoughts.

Momoki half smiled. “Can you imagine what it must be like, the world from the perspective of a koi fish?” Where had he heard that before? It came to him as he huffed a laughter, damn you Akihito.

“Awfully boring.” Hondomachi rested her chin on her right arm. “The same tiny patch of the world, same barriers, only able to see the sky above and nothing more. That's not much of a life.”

“You're right, it isn't.” He sighed, _Narihisago couldn't possibly have known his fate when he first pondered that perspective all those years ago at my family home._

“Sure,” she continued, “they're safe, protected, fed; but not much else. Their world is finite, defined by boundaries set by others that they are powerless to change.”

“I see your talks with Saigo are helping.”

Hondomachi nodded before she looked up to him for the first time. “Yes, I suppose they are. He … has a way opening things up. I'm really glad you brought him on board.”

“Good. Kokufu and I were concerned about our choice. But it does seem as though he's making a valid difference for all of you. In time we'll have you diving again, we just don't want to rush things. You've been through a lot.”

“So, the program **has** been put on hiatus for now.”

“Temporarily.” Momoki nodded, leaning on the railing and watching the fish swirl around in random patterns. “As much as we hated to do it, it's the best for our pilots.”

“Fukuda can dive.”

“Fukuda is also in therapy right now, just like you and Narihisago are. I didn't just include him to get Narihisago talking, he needs this too. We've overlooked his psychosis to his detriment. Even though he seems to shrug it off, Saigo has determined that he's deflecting the truth.”

She smirked and giggled. “Surprised you didn't notice that from the start, Investigator.”

“Hey,” he stared at her mock-insulted, “was that a dig at me?”

“Nah. Fukuda's a strange one, but he does make a kind of sense once you get to know him.” She heaved a sigh. “Everyone does if we take the time to get to know them.”

That was his in. He watched her reflection as the fish drifted through it. “How have things been with your mother?”

Her cheeks flushed, she tucked her chin, looking smaller. “The same … she's … she barely spoke to me.”

“Because you got hurt again?”

“I don't think I can change her mind about what I **should** be doing.” There it was, frustration flaring in her eyes.

Momoki shook his head. “Well, she's wrong. You are doing what you should be.”

“Even though this happened?” She held up her cast.

He tried to hide the flinch. “Well, that wasn't your fault. That was Itoh's doing. That bastard has no clue what his actions cost us. With his death we can't do anything about that. But you and your mother, there is a chance.”

Flicking her finger on the railing she shook her head. “Mom's set in her ways.”

“No more than my father was.” He offered her a smile. “Trust me, if I could change _his_ mind you can alter hers.”

“Oh please. You don't know her.”

“Hondomachi, he was before your time, but do you know who the previous commissioner was?”

She shook her head.

“Commissioner,” he paused for a moment, “Momoki.”

Her eyes widened.

“Back in those days Matsuoka, Narihisago, and I all served on the force distantly under my father. Though I turned away from the administration where he wanted me to be, I'd gone to the homicide division to chart my own path. My father wasn't thrilled with that aspect, but he allowed it certain I was just serving my time on the force before transferring. But I didn't. I kept to my own course.”

“That must have been hard to maintain.”

“It certainly was. Narihisago, my partner, listened to me, read me like a frigging detective novel. He knew what I wanted, independence. Not to live in my ancestral shadow. But along with my job, Father expected other traditions to be upheld.” He flashed his left hand, devoid of a ring.

She furrowed her brow. “You're the eldest, aren't you, and he wanted an heir.”

Momoki nodded. “That was the issue that grew into a rift between us. I spent a lengthy period of time dodging my father rather then talking it out. Tough really, as I was living in the family household.”

“Wait, how did you avoid him then?”

“Crashing as Narihisago's one-bedroom apartment.”

She giggled. “Two bachelors, oh that had to be rich!”

He shrugged. “Only one of us was a bachelor. Narihisago was married, and the father of a three-year-old daughter.”

“Whoa. Really? And you crashed with him?”

“I used the excuse of helping babysit the rambunctious Muku to get my folks off my back. They didn't seem to mind as I watched my niece. Seemed like a good enough reason for my parents to stay off my back for a bit.”

Her brow furrowed. “Wait, if Narihisago needed a hand, where were his parents?”

“Where they've always been, over in the Fukui prefecture. Besides, he didn't ask for help, I volunteered. Long story short, eventually Narihisago's perceptive nature picked up on my ploy and he tricked my father and I into talking when I'd refused to initiate the talk.” _On a bridge over a koi pond. The more things change the more they stay the same._

“Do you think he'd help me with my mom?”

He laughed and shook his head. “How would that work? Would your mother really listen to an inmate held in an underground prison?”

“Oh, yeah.” She tucked her chin again and laughed. “I suppose that things are different for him now then they were back then.”

“Indeed, they are. Back then he was a citizen. Now … he is the koi in the pond swimming round and round in stasis, cut off from the rest of the world.” That was hard to think about. “But I do remember how he broached the subject and even without him, it might work again in your case.”

She stared up at him, hope in her gaze.

“Father believed a long list of passed down traditions that locked me into place to be the perfect eldest son. All of those dictated aspects of my life. It may have been fine for him, slave to the duty, but I wanted to be my own man, stand on my own. One day, after Narihisago pointed out to my father that in the grand tradition he would have married above his station which wouldn't have been allowed, which my father liked him a great deal and had no trouble with being married to Ayako, the opening was there for me. The key to this is: we don't live in the same times. I didn't have to rush to get married. I could wait until I found someone I truly loved and respected.”

She smiled. “Sarina Togo.”

Heat rose to his cheeks, his fingers shuffling before he separated his hands and shoved them into his pocket. “Uhh, yeah. Many years later, of course. But if my father'd had his way I would already be married and unable to see her as I am now.”

Practically on her tiptoes, she cooed, “Will you two tie the knot?”

“Maybe, in time. But that's not the point.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “When it comes to your mother and the traditional roles of women, you have to show her the world has changed. You're not limited to being the dutiful housewife. Especially you. The truth is, Hondomachi, you are as perceptive as Narihisago when he was detective.”

“He is—”

Momoki held a hand up. “I know what you mean, but you know what I mean. When he was free, when he was a full homicide detective. Not like he is now, which is regrettably different. Trust me, I want him to be back to the way he was. But even Saigo seems to doubt that is possible. The damage Hayaseura inflicted on him is to severe.” He reached forward and brushed the hair aside exposing the scar in her forehead. “You are scarred. So is he, just not as visibly.”

She covered her scar and closed her eyes. “Oh no … it's visible. If you know what to look for you can see the pieces missing from his picture. And I think he does now as well.”

_**~ID~** _

“Sooo … ” Fukuda sat on the edge of his bed with a lopsided grin on his face, “what was it that the good doc told you as he was leaving? A few more days and then they'll be taking some of that hardware out of you?”

Narihisago lay on his back, fingers laced behind his head. He glanced down at the boot protecting the rather gruesome mess of surgical scars beneath the bandages. Now he regretted looking when Araya had it uncovered for the exam. “I guess so.”

“That's great news. Do you think they'll knock you out for that?”

He nodded. _Fukuda seems entirely too excited about that, as usual._ “Undoubtedly. But this time it'll be a short trip up to surgery and back. Not even overnight.” Holding up his right wrist, now without the brace it sported a white bracelet clamped into place. Beneath it the lengthy scar from where the thugs had sliced out his previous biochip triggered a cascade of memories, nightmares in the figurative light of day. But his dry eyes opened and closed, feigning disinterest. He took a deep breath, letting it out slower over a long internal count just as Saigo had coached to do.

“Didn't I hear him say that you should be able to put weight on it after the procedure?”

Shrugging he rolled his head so he could see Fukuda. “Maybe. Have to see how things go. But at least now that my wrist is all healed I should be able used to a pair of crutches instead of just one. He's not sure at all how much of a limp I'll be stuck with.”

“Wait,” Fukuda's smile faded only to return awkwardly back a second later, “so you mean you really could be crippled after all this?”

That had been a thought plaguing his mind this whole time. But the fact remained he couldn't do a damn thing about it. The damage had been severe. However, it's not like he had to be able to walk without a limp or run. He didn't get to go far in the real world. Only in id wells … that was the true question. Would he be a cripple on the other side?

When he didn't answer, Fukuda laughed. “Man, that would suck for you.”

Narihisago rested his arm over his eyes. “I'm trying not to think about that prospect at the moment. Besides, I've still got a while after being able put weight on it before I'll know. This is going to take time to restrengthen.”

Fukuda cleared his throat. “Hate to tell you, but uhhh, sounds like they're satisfied with Hondomachi and my response to Saigo's sessions. So it seems we'll be diving again soon.”

“That's nice.” He stared into the darkness of the crook his arm. It would be longer for him … though he was making great strides, at least so Saigo said. Still, Momoki's statement had been once the surgery had taken place removing what they could of the gear. Enough time had passed. The portable x-ray proved the bones had mostly knit by now.

“Aren't you jealous?”

He shook his head, arm still in place.

“Heh. And here I thought you'd be mad, you being the primary pilot and all. They still drugging you or something?”

Lifting his arm he glanced to the side. “Are you blind? They don't come down with the dose anymore. No. I'm done with that, for the moment. But I'll probably need something after the surgery for a few days. I don't know. I've never had this much metal in me before.”

Fukuda tapped his chin three times. “I suppose that's a valid point. Anyway, I'll let you know what we see, if you want.”

He cracked a solemn grin, there was no concealing it—it hurt knowing they would go in and he was still banned. “I'd appreciate that.”

“Well, at the very least Momoki's been consulting us for cases down here. I have to admit, his meetings have been amusing.”

Narihisago side-eyed him. “You do realize it's a ruse.”

“What?”

“Those cases … they're all old.”

He flattened his hands against the mattress. “No way.”

“Momoki's trying, for some reason, and the gesture is nice. But I bet he thought I wouldn't recognize the cases. He's digging deep into our first years as detectives. Somehow he's managed not to hit the ones I told you about, otherwise I'm sure you would have caught on.”

“Aren't they running Hondomachi and that's where this stuff is coming from?”

Narihisago shook his head. “Kura's in a holding pattern. They're trying to conceal it, but it's obvious. For some strange reason Momoki thinks that the old cases will fill that gap for me. It has to be hard for someone unhampered by this shit to comprehend what it's like. I don't know why I decided to humor him, except he seemed to pleased with himself.”

Taking a deep breath, Fukuda shifted on his bed. “Narihisago, tell me … what was like having a family?”

Before that question would have seared him to the core, flooding him with rage. Now, after weeks of sessions with Saigo the question had less impact. He knew why Fukuda asked. Not to be cruel, but he was truly curious. Shifting his gaze to the pictures, Narihisago stared into the eyes of his wife and daughter … yes … Ayako, he could think about her now. His fingers touched the edge of his wedding photo. She smiled so confidently with an endless future in her vibrant eyes. So much life … she didn't get to live. The scar on his wrist caught his eye, he turned it so he couldn't see the mark that cruelly mimicked the loss of his beloved. That was too much for him yet. They were still working through that.

“My family.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “They became a part of me. I never imagined a time without them there, what happened blindsided me. And yet, it shouldn't have, given my work. Violent murders.” He shook his head. “Back then they were a part of my world. Stability. An anchor, a reason to reach the end of the day and wake up the next morning. Back then I could smile and laugh more freely because just being with them gave the world meaning.”

Drawing his long legs up to his chest, Fukuda cocked his head with a strange light of longing in his eyes. “Your folks, did your father guide you? Did you guide your daughter?”

“Of course. That's what dads are supposed to do.”

His gaze fell to the floor. “I wish I would have known that experience. I might not have gone the path I had.”

“Regrets?”

He nodded, not looking up.

“Much as I hate to admit it … ” he raised his hand pointing to the ceiling as if holding a gun in one hand, “you and me both.”

“Too bad we can't go back.”

“If regrets were wishes that could be fulfilled, I don't think you and I would be here now.” Narihisago sighed, returning his hand beneath his head. “We'd be free men with stable dispositions.”

“Fat chance of that. Reality sucks.”

“That it does.” The lights shut off for the night, Narihisago's voice echoed as he muttered, “That it definitely does.”


	24. Chapter 24

_ **Chapter 24** _

The tea cups rattled as Kokufu set the tray down on the table in his office. The sound and the motion startled Momoki, his cell phone nearly ending up on the floor.

Kokufu held out a freshly poured cup. “Relax. They'll call if anything happens. No news is good news at the moment.”

“I know.” He sighed, taking the cup, grateful for the warmth. He hadn't noticed how cold his hands were.

Togo took a cup from Kokufu before he took a seat with his own. She nodded after her first sip. “It's not like he hasn't been under before. And this is nothing like the last procedure. Sounds like the hardest part is determining what Araya can take out and what needs to stay permanently. Before you know it, we'll get the call that he's awake.”

That was the part that bothered him, not Narihisago waking up—that would be the good part, one step closer to him being whole again. It was the removal of the barrier that logically kept him from diving. Past this surgery they had little reason. Saigo's sessions had reportedly been going well, but the last thing Momoki wanted to do was thrust Narihisago's psyche back into the fire.

_That's what he wants … what he needs. Akihito Narihisago has always been a detective. It's in his thought processes, how he functions, it's in his very blood. Leaving him isolated in a cell is not just a waste … it's actually torturing him. Shit, I need to bring that up with Saigo the next time I see the guy. My own guilt is gonna kill me._

“Momoki.”

His head snapped up, Togo rested a hand on his knee.

“Your tea is getting cold.”

“Sorry.” He offered an apologetic glance at Kokufu. Taking several sips he cleared his throat. “So, the plans are after today we'll be taking cases. Which is the real reason you called us both here.”

Kokufu glanced up over the rim of his cup. “No. The real reason I called you here today was to keep you from pacing the waiting room and pestering the medical staff.”

“I do not—”

Togo laughed into her hand.

“I don't!”

She shook her head, grinning. “You most certainly do, and it's logical. But this makes sense. Everyone has had the chance to recover from the incident now. I'll be curious to see what a difference this makes for Fukuda and Hondomachi. We know Narihisago will be eager to get back into it.”

Staring into the tea, Momoki swirled it before he drained the last of it. Setting the cup aside he shook his head. “He won't be the first going in.”

Both of them sat up straighter. Kokufu blinked. “Saigo says he is responding well to their sessions. Are you certain it's wise to hold him back?”

He snapped a nod. “I am. The staff needs to find our groove with the other two first. We don't want to set him back just as we get started again.”

Kokufu set his cup aside. “Saigo informed me he felt it was time to return him to the cockpit. Having a purpose, a role that contributes in some capacity, is critical for his mental balance. We need to—”

His hands tightened into fists. “We need to remember that he has been healing from serious injuries! How about we see if he can even walk first!”

An uncomfortable silence stretched out.

“I'm sorry.” He bowed his head, heat rose to his cheeks. “That wasn't … ”

Togo took his hand. “We're all wondering that. After seeing the initial x-ray I'm not certain he will be able to.”

“Bridges.” Kokufu folded his hands. “We cross them when we come to them. Fine, we'll start the dives with the other two. But we're not going to wait long before we run him again. Narihisago's tough, still we need to make certain he can still pilot Sakaido.”

A pit grew in Momoki's chest. That had never occurred to him. What if all of this snapped that connection, what if his abilities were terminated? He'd been taking old, solved cases down to the cell block and Narihisago hadn't even noticed. He had been puzzling through them with Fukuda. What if he'd lost his edge?

The phone rang, Kokufu picked it up immediately. “Yes? … I see … When? … Ok, thanks Doc.”

Sitting on the edge of his seat, Momoki held Togo's hand. “Was it … ?”

“Narihisago's out of surgery and awake. He's groggy yet. They want him ambulatory and able to keep something down before he'll be taken back to the cell block later today. Araya was able to take a good deal of the hardware out, but there were some braces and pins he couldn't. How much that will hamper his ability to walk. The incisions need to heal, and it's up to Narihisago to strengthen his limb. He's got a pair of crutches now and will be encouraged to put weight on it incrementally.”

“See?” She gently punched his shoulder. “You were worried for nothing. He'll be fine.”

_**~ID~** _

Narihisago lay in his bed, even though it was dark in the cell block, out of the corner of his eyes he caught the pair of crutches leaning against the headboard. Beneath the bandages, inside the supposed walking boot, his foot ached, the incisions hurt. A constant reminder of Itoh's betrayal.

How very close he had come to being detached permanently, unable to do any good in the world. If the yakuza had gotten their hands on him …

A strange sensation, like the world wobbling, spilled over him. He blinked and when he opened his eyes he no longer lay down. He was standing in that endless void beneath the impossible sky.

Kiki stood in front of him with a timid smile. “You're wide open tonight.”

He shrugged. “After effects of anesthesia.”

“They did it today? Great news. You must be mostly healed, Akihito.” She stole a glance down at his bare feet.

Here they were both whole, unblemished. He wiggled his toes and watched the water dance. “Yeah, seems much as it's going to be.”

A warm hand pressed against his chest, gentle and soft. He both craved it and dreaded the contact in the same nerve impulse. That true connection, a facsimile of human contact in this mental imagery. But that was the fall short—this **wasn't** reality. And yet in a strange way it was, an indelible state that shouldn't be possible.

She smiled, casting her eyes up to him, stealing his train of thought. “You are calmer now. Stabler. The storm within you has calmed.”

“Of course it has, the lightning stopped.”

“That's not what I mean. Even in the desert the wind blew, the vulture circled. But now your presence is more like this.” She gestured toward the endless glassy body of water. “Your reflection is clear.”

_Huh. So the shrink really is helping. Who knew._

“The killers are still out there. Many more have entered the field while the Kura has laid dormant. No pilots have been diving to put an end to their slaughters.” She shivered.

He embraced her. She wasn't cold, but goosebumps covered what flesh was exposed. He lifted her chin. “Soon now. Momoki promised me after the surgery I'd get to run again.” That phrase, he winced at how unfortunate it was. He doubted he would ever actually physically run again.

Not that he was allowed to in the prison block.

“I've missed all of you. It's been so lonely.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath. “Kiki … I need to ask you a favor … to retrieve something from my memories.”

Her eyes trembled. “You told me not to.”

“I know what I said … ” He forced a smile. “But it turns out I was wrong. So … if you could, I want you to find a certain memory. I need to see it … I need to see the truth, not what I warped it to. Can you do that?”

She nodded hesitantly. “What do you want to see?”

“Not what I **want**. What I **need**.” One more breath, out slow and steady. He locked eyes with her and concentrated.

His old apartment materialized around him, the rays of morning light shimmered though the window down on the figure in the bed.

Ayako, her eyes puffy from shed tears, the pillow damp. Not asleep, she hadn't been getting out of bed til the afternoon in those days after Muku's death. Her days had been empty while his had been a frantic chase. He watched himself getting prepared for work, tucking the gun in the holster … a gleam in his eyes, one that didn't belong to him. _That was it!_

Akihito's head bowed at the sight, a tear trembled, threatening to spill over.

In a long plummet it dropped down, splitting his reflection in the water in distorting ripples.

_I should have known …_

_**~ID~** _

Soma and Hagashi stood on either side of him, staying close. Now putting weight on the aching foot Narihisago's speed had dropped significantly. He had a pair of crutches, leaning on them heavily and huffing each breath on the long walk down the hallway, every other step was more or less and awkward dragging motion. Un-cuffed, which was unusual, but he couldn't use the crutches if they did cuff him. They hadn't told him, but he knew where they were headed.

Hours ago they had taken Fukuda from his cell. His first dive since the disastrous days. Still, it seemed rather odd they'd call for him too. Unless this would just be a test run in an old well, which was possible.

“Take it easy.” Soma matched his shuffled pace. “No rush.”

“Not much of a choice,” he panted. “This is what I got if I'm walking on it … huh, if this even qualifies as walking.”

The idea of him doing anything hostile in this condition was laughable. Without the crutch he'd topple over. The foot wouldn't take his full weight yet, maybe half—at most.

At long last they rounded the corner into the cockpit chamber. He glanced up to find all three cockpits. Fukuda sat in one with his hands cuffed and a guard at his side.

Hondomachi sat in another one, waving her left hand. She was out of the cast and the sling. “Hey, long time no see!”

He blinked and offered a half smile. “Ok, what's with the party?”

Leaning forward, Fukuda held up his cuffed hands. “What's the deal? He gets a pass but I don't? I mean, not even here?”

Soma kept at Narihisago's side easing him into the cockpit. “It's only for right now because he can't use his crutches while cuffed.”

Scowling, Fukuda snorted a breath as the cuffs were now unlocked. “Still, no fair.”

Setting the pair of crutches aside, next the cockpit, Narihisago suggested nonchalantly, “You want a shattered foot, you can get a free pass to go about un-cuffed. But I don't recommend it.”

“ _Alright. Let's get down to business.”_ Momoki's voice broke over the speaker. _“Hondomachi and Fukuda have both been in this new well and it's posing a difficult task that can't be done with just two.”_

Raising his eyes to the ceiling, Narihisago mused. “Really? That's got to be something.”

“Trust me,” Hondomachi held up a hand, “it's a real doozy!”

For her to say that, this had to be a trick and a half. “Ok, thus the third wheel.”

“ _This is going to be a live test to see how things translate. We're not certain whether Sakaido will have a form of Narihisago's injury.”_

“That would be funny.” Fukuda blurted out. “Doubt he'd have a crutch in there to stand with. So Sakaido just topples over and has to crawl like a baby.”

“It doesn't work that way, though. You don't have your hole. I doubt I would be lame.” Narihisago scowled at his renewed laughter. “You think it's so funny … ”

“All I have to do is remind you who you are and the wound appears.”

Sitting forward, he growled, “You do, that happens—you're carrying my ass around the well!”

“ _Fukuda, I want you to tell Narihisago who he is.”_

All eyes darted to the ceiling, Fukuda blurted out, “Say what?”

“Uhhhh, Inspector Momoki?” Hondomachi held up a finger. “Is that really wise?”

“ _Yes. We're not going to waste time messing with sequence. You two figured it out. And we need Narihisago's full intellect with this one. If we're wrong, and the injury transfers, we can pull and re-inject. Ideally, we can't wait for the amnesiac part of Sakaido to play catch up. So, that's an order, Fukuda. Right away. Am I understood?”_

Fukuda crossed his arms, practically pouting in the cockpit.

Sterner, Momoki barked, _“Am. I. Understood?”_

“Yeah yeah … I hear yah.”

“ _Good. We're ready up here. Narihisago, you good to go?”_

He lay back in the cockpit, taking a few breaths to steady himself. Opening his eyes he stared at the screen lowering into place. “Roger.”

“ _Glad to hear your voice again.”_

He cracked a slow smile. “Back in the saddle.”

“ _Alright, inject Hijiriido, Anaido, and Sakaido.” …_

The strange filtration pattern ran its course, stripping his memory away before he opened his eyes to a blurry world. He rubbed his eyes with this knuckles and rose to his feet. Standing up he stared all around him.

_What the heck is with this place? Where am I? Who am I?_

His gaze caught a girl suspended on a treble clef strangled by piano wire and it struck him like jolt of electricity.

_Kaeru! Her name is Kaeru, and by knowing that I know I am Sakaido. I am a Brilliant Detective. My task is to solve her mur—_

A long fingered hand clamped on his shoulder. He spun and looked up at a blue-haired man. “Welcome back, Akihito Narihisago.”

That was a bucket of ice cold water as his memories returned in a torrential flood. He staggered backward, doubling over and holding his head.

“Haha! Look, Hondomachi! He's still standing. Shit, that's a relief. Looks like I don't have to piggy-back you after all.”

“Good thing too.” Hijiriido grinned wickedly, “He'll need to move for this well if we're gonna break that pain in the ass code. And by the way, Anaido,” she poked his chest hard enough to make him wince, “it's Miyo Hijiriido in here!”

Narihisago forced Sakaido to grin as he stomped his left foot to discover it was painless. “Alright, we're on the other side. What do I need to do?”

Anaido thrust a hand over his shoulder three times. “Hope you're good with music.”

Confidence faded. He swallowed as a chill ran down his spine. _We're fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … to be continued with a new case file!


End file.
